A Smart Match
by KeatsLove
Summary: Norrington is transferred to Port Royale and Governor Swann hopes it will turn into a smart match for 16 year old Elizabeth. Elizabeth would rather run off to visit Will.
1. Chapter 1

A Smart Match

"Elizabeth, there you are," Papa says, catching me in my attempt to sneak down the staircase. Though, truth be told, it is a rather poor plot on my part to attempt to sneak down the front stairs instead of the back. I just did not expect him to be at home. Or with company for that matter.

"Good afternoon, Papa," I say sweetly, finishing my stairwell descent and coming to kiss him on the cheek. "You are home early."

"I have quite the surprise for you," he says, motioning at our guest. "You remember Captain James Norrington, don't you, dearest?"

I study the tall man in the naval uniform next to Papa. He is not wearing a wig, which I approve of because I think it is a horrid fashion and his natural hair seems nice enough. Sort of a mahogany and his face is the type that you cannot tell his true age though I would guess somewhere near thirty.

"No, Papa, I do not believe I do remember Captain Norrington," I finally say. "Should I?"

My admission makes Norrington blush and Papa cough like he swallowed something wrong. "On the crossing from England," he prompts.

"Oh, yes!" I cry, grinning brightly. "The day we rescued Will!" I step forward, extending my hand toward Norrington to shake. "Forgive me. Now I remember."

"What happened to the boy that was rescued?" Norrington asks, holding on to my hand quite longer than necessary. "I often wondered that in the years since."

"Oh, Will is quite my very best friend in the known world!" I say, my enthusiasm eliciting another embarrassed blush from Papa. "Though, at present, we are having a bit of a tiff since he keeps insisting we are too old to play as we once did."

"At least the boy has a sense of propriety," Papa says, one of his favorite things to say in order to point out my many and sundry lapses.

"If I may be so bold, Miss Swann," Norrington says. "Would you care to accompany me on a promenade through town? It has been an age since I was in Port Royale and some things have undoubtedly changed."

I look towards Papa to see if this is what he wants.

"The weather is very fine, Elizabeth," Papa says. "I believe a promenade would be a lovely choice for you and Captain Norrington."

"Yes," I agree, turning to give Norrington a bright smile. "Allow me a moment to collect my parasol and hat, please."

"Of course, Miss Swann," Norrington says, bowing , as I rush up the stairs two at a time to collect my things.

-------

"How long do you intend to stay in Port Royale, Captain Norrington?" I ask distractedly as we walk, one arm linked properly through his and the other holding my parasol. Despite myself, I perpetually scan the crowd for any glimpse of Will Turner. We have not spoken in neigh a week which is very upsetting.

"Indefinitely, Miss Swann," Norrington replies. "It is my new home port. I was recently transferred. Your father put in a good word for me."

"How very kind of him," I say, quickening my pace when I spot Will crossing the street ahead of us. "Will! Will Turner, I know you hear me so you better stop to say hello!"

Will's feet falter and he turns toward the sound of my voice. "Miss Swann. Good day."

"How are you?" I ask excitedly, bouncing up and down on the balls of my feet. Will's eyes skitter towards my – Goodness! Will Turner just looked at my bosom! How deliciously pervy of him. I smile, half breathless at the knowledge of where his attention just strayed to. "It's been an age, Will. I've missed you."

"I have been very busy," he says, glancing at Norrington.

"Oh! Will Turner, this is Captain James Norrington," I make introductions. "Captain Norrington, my friend Will Turner."

"The boy from the raft," Norrington says, shaking Will's offered hand. "I must say, it was quite fortunate you survived such an incident. Pirates rarely leave survivors."

"I don't remember much of that day," Will says, glancing at me, keeping his eyes firmly on my face this time. "Elizabeth was a fine nurse, though."

"It was my pleasure, naturally," I say. "I felt so useful."

"Shall we continue, Elizabeth?" Norrington asks, tucking my arm tighter against him.

I glance regretfully at Will. "Yes. Thank you, Captain Norrington. Will? Perhaps you can come around later?"

"Perhaps."

As Norrington and I continue down the street, I crane my neck for one last look at Will. He is watching us, face stricken. As if sensing my gaze, he turns away, and I have the most hideous feeling that he will not come around later. Perhaps I have spoiled our friendship for good. I cannot bear to think on it.


	2. Chapter 2

Part II

"Miss Elizabeth, Master Will is here to see you," Celeste says, bobbing a curtsy. "You best not keep him waiting, Miss. Shall I help tidy up your appearance?"

"I can brush my own hair, thank you, Celeste, and my dress does not need changing."

"As you wish, Miss," she says, backing out of my room.

I make sure to mark my place in the book I am reading before moving to sit in front of my looking glass. Goodness, my cheeks look pale! Does all that time in the sun do nothing for my complexion? I pinch my cheeks and bite my lips to bring color to them before running a brush through my blond hair, tying it neatly back with a peach colored ribbon. I am quite glad Celeste left the room or I shall never hear the end of it. "Primping" for Will Turner is what she would call it!

"Will, how wonderful to see you," I say, catching his eye as I descend the stairs. "I was sure you were planning to avoid me till judgment day with how you've acted of late."

"I've been busy."

"You used to not be too 'busy' to see me," I say, affecting a pretty little pout. The gesture is lost on Will who just turns away in order to peer out the picture window overlooking the sea.

"Now I am," he says. "We have enough work to keep us busy day and night. I have found it very difficult to break away."

"Why are you turning so cold toward me?" I ask, standing next to him and making sure my skirts brush his leg. "Goodness, Will, sometimes I feel I'm reliving an English Winter with how harsh your behavior toward me is at times."

"I regret you feel so," he says, clasping his hands behind his back and still favoring the view of the sea over me.

"If you regret it, then why don't you alleviate it?" I ask. "A simple kind word would make all the difference, Will." I attempt pouting again but his eyes are still stoutly fixed on the view. "Commenting on my appearance would be nice," I prompt. "I am a girl, after all, though I do act rough around the edges at times. I still like to be told I'm pretty."

His gaze shifts slowly toward me. "You're wearing your hair differently."

"You noticed!" I say, patting the stray wisps back into place. "I had it loose when Celeste alerted me to your visit so I just tied it back instead of taking the time to braid it. Do you like it?"

"It's different."

"But do you like it?"

"It's just hair, Elizabeth."

"But it's my hair, it's attached to me, and you're supposed to say I'm pretty!" I flounce away in a swirl of skirts and throw myself cross-wise onto the divan, stretching out and making sure I leave no room for Will if he chooses to follow. "If you have no intention of being kind, why did you come around?"

"Because you asked me to," Will says, choosing a seat across from me and the divan. "I suppose I'm still in the habit of doing what you ask, Elizabeth."

"Well, I suppose it doesn't much matter if you're acting horrid!"

"I'm acting--?" He makes a rather annoying tongue clucking sound to show his disapproval and I catch him roll his eyes though he tries to avert his face to hide the fact. "Elizabeth, I --"

"Oh, just say you think I'm a spoiled brat and be done with it!" I cry, sitting up and trying to hide my face in my hands since I knew at any moment I will make a spectacle of myself by sobbing. "Since you obviously have such a low amount of regard for me, just say it and be done with it!"

"Elizabeth," Will sighs, coming to kneel in front of me before gently removing my hands from my face, holding them tightly in his. "I have a very high amount of regard for you."

"Then why won't you show it, Will? I asked for a simple compliment and you refused." I lift shimmery, tear-filled eyes. "Can't you just say I'm pretty? I want to be told that I am pretty."

"You are very pretty," he says, perhaps only humoring me.

"You mean that?"

"Of course. I wouldn't have said it otherwise."

I smile, happy for the time being. "Good. Now let's play pirates."


	3. Chapter 3

"But, Papa, you simply _must_ invite Will!" I complain, following Papa around his office closer than his own shadow. "Please, Papa, it would mean so much to me."

"You'll already have one young man at table, Elizabeth," he says. "Why do you wish two?"

"Because you bought me such a deliciously fantastic dress that I simply must show it off," I say, affecting a pout. "Please, Papa. Please."

He sighs, my pout obviously the selling point, for I know he never denies me anything I truly want. "How do you propose I get the boy over here? A simple invitation may not be enough."

"Say you're commissioning a sword. He won't turn down honest labor – especially from you," I say. I am an expert at inventing reasons to ensure Will Turner's arrival on my doorstep.

"Won't he smell a trap?" Papa asks.

I dismiss the concern with a flick of my wrist. "Goodness, if he does, I'll wager even money that he will appear none-the-less. I shall compose a letter if you wish, Papa, and you can just copy it out in your own handwriting." I rock back and forth on my heels, pouting again since it worked so wonderfully before. "Please?"

"Oh, very well," he sighs. "But I expect you to also write a note to Captain Norrington expressing your excitement for his dinner visit, understand?"

"Perfectly," I say, flouncing upstairs to dispatch the letters. Captain Norrington _and_ Will Turner at table tonight! If I am lucky, perhaps they shall be horribly jealous of each other and create a scene. Goodness, what fun!

----------

_Right on time._

I can hear Papa and Will talking in the main entry way. Will is asking about specifications of the commissioned sword and Papa, to his credit, is playing along. Perhaps we will really need to order a sword. It would be cruel not to.

I wait at the top of the stairs, listening to their conversation. Papa bought me a heavenly butter and cream colored dress with gold thread shot through. It's the type with the very firm stomacher that Celeste must help lace me into. I especially like that it pushes all my "assets" upwards. With Celeste's help, I've done my hair in ringlets and lacured my nails. A very pretty picture, if I must say so.

"Will, what a surprise!" I exclaim as I descend the stairs, hand skimming the banister. "What brings you here?"

Will takes in my full appearance, from my head straight down to my toes. I smile, knowing I look my very best and hoping he says so.

He doesn't.

"I enjoy the jacket you've chosen," I say, hoping a compliment will prompt one in return. "Brown is a very becoming color on you. It matches your hair and eyes."

"Thank you, Miss Swann."

I roll my eyes. "So, we're back to being formal? I thought we were past all that, Will."

"Apparently not, Miss Swann."

"Call me Elizabeth," I insist. "You've never had an issue before."

Papa looks a bit uncomfortable. He clears his throat, looking pointedly at me. "Elizabeth, dear, why don't you proceed to the dinning hall while Young Master Turner and I continue our business discussion. Captain Norrington is waiting."

"Yes. Thank you. I believe I shall do that, Papa."

I glance over my shoulder at Will as I'm poised at the dinning hall door. Oh! He's not even looking at me! Bugger!

"Captain Norrington!" I say brightly as I enter the room, holding out my hand. "How glorious to see you once again."

"A pleasure as always, Miss Swann," he says, kissing my hand. He pulls out a chair for me and I smile as I accept the courtesy.

"What fine manners you have, Captain."

"Please, call me James."

"We don't know each other well enough to use Christian names."

His look is very intense as he seats himself beside me. "I hope to get to know you very well, Miss Swann. Very well indeed."

I blush for real and not for show. "I believe my father has a say in such matters."

"I have already spoken to your father."

"Oh?"

"He has agreed that I may call upon you if you are so inclined," Captain Norrington says. He reaches for my hand again but I pull away.

"Captain Norrington, I am very young."

"I understand that you only recently turned sixteen."

"How old are you?" I ask since I am dying to know anyway.

He blinks slowly, looking slightly bemused as if I just asked him if he beats puppies. "Thirty."

"Fourteen years. Don't you believe that is quite an age gap?"

"Age should not matter," he says, looking down at his hands and seeming a little put out that I should question his intentions. Perhaps he is not used to girls balking at his professions. "Your father believes it a smart match."

"Smart match or no, I am too young to think of courtship," I say. "Perhaps at a later date I shall change my view but, currently, friendship is all I am after."

"I am a very patient man."

"I am sure you are," I agree, smiling and holding out my hand. "Shall we shake and say friends for now, Captain?"

He takes my hand in his. "Friends for now."

I nod. "Excellent."

Papa enters. Alone. "Well, now. It seems you two are getting along rather well."

"Where's Will?" I ask, not bothering with formality.

"The boy's gone home."

"Home?" I practically shout. "But, Papa, you promised!"

"I promised to get him here, Elizabeth. I never promised he'd stay."

"But, Papa, I was so looking forward to his company!" I pout, hoping it will work its magic again. "You know that."

"Asking me to keep Will Turner for dinner is like asking me to change the weather, Elizabeth," Papa says. "I have no control over it."

I stand, laying a hand across my forehead as if attacked by a sudden ailment. "Forgive me, Papa. . .Captain. . .But I am feeling rather ill. I must insist on retiring to my room to rest. Again. Forgive me."

I leave with as much swiftness as I figure a sick person is allowed. Instead of climbing the stairs, though, I head straight out the main door and down the street to – where else? The Blacksmith Shop.


	4. Chapter 4

Part IV

Blacksmith Brown's front entrance is always so disgustingly dirty. I don't expect white wash and lye, but – honestly! -- can't they think to scrub it off once in awhile?

"Will?" I call, wrapping my hand in a handkerchief so the black grime won't rub off onto it, before testing the door. Open. As usual. "Will, you were supposed to stay for dinner."

"What you suppose should happen and what actually does, Elizabeth, rarely coincide," Will says for the forge.

He's taken off his vest and jacket. His white shirt is half open and the heat from the forge always makes it stick to his chest. Excellent. Despite his crabby mood, this may turn out to be a fine visit after all.

"How else am I going to see you if I don't invent reasons?" I ask, rocking back and forth on my heels, hands behind my back. "You've scarcely breathed the same air as me for neigh a week. It's upsetting, Will. Don't you see that?"

"I see a girl who is missing her plaything and nothing else."

"That's not true," I insist, shaking my head. "I miss you. I do. If I didn't, would I really go through such elaborate schemes to get you in my house?"

"Yes."

I motion at my fancy dress, making sure to include the "assets" he seems to find so alluring of late in the gesture. As expected, his gaze follows before he blushes and looks away. "This is a new dress. Papa bought it special for tonight," I say. "I wanted to look pretty. I spent so much time and effort on my appearance."

"Hoping for a compliment, no doubt?"

"Is that so very wrong?" I ask. "Unlike boys who have the luxury of having a profession, the best I can hope for is a smart match and running a household. My appearance is the only thing I've got."

Will sighs, laying his hammer across the anvil and wiping his dirty hands on the sides of his pants before coming around to take my hands in his. "You've got brains and spirit and heart, Elizabeth," he says quietly. "Don't ever let anyone tell you you are just a pretty face. You're so much more than that."

"Thank you, Will. That means quite a lot to me."

He fishes out a clean handkerchief and dabs at my eyes when I can't but help a few tears. "I am sorry I have been avoiding you but I. . .There's so much work and we are not children anymore, Elizabeth. What was acceptable at ten is not as sixteen."

I nod. "I understand but I. . .Can't you come around more often, Will? Even just for tea. I'd love it if you came around for tea. I'm getting very good at serving. You'd think my manners very fine."

He nods slowly, perhaps just to placate me, but I don't rightly care as long as he does not disappear entirely from my world. "I'd. . .I'd like that, Elizabeth."

"Tomorrow then? Or the day after?"

"I'll. . .I'll send word," he promises. "Does your father know you're out?"

I shake my head. "No. I should return." I reluctantly pull my hands free, stepping backwards toward the door. "Good bye, Will. Come around soon."

"Good bye, Elizabeth," he says. "I will."


	5. Chapter 5

Part V

"Cream or sugar?" I ask Will sweetly as I pour tea from the new silver pot Papa just purchased from the Silversmith. Usually, Papa sent away to England, but I convinced him he should patronize the local shops instead of sending his business over the ocean. I was also convinced that Will Turner would never show for tea as promised but—lo!--he surprises me once again.

"Sugar," he decides, reaching for the offered cup once I finish stirring and hold it out; balancing it on his knees. "You've done your hair up different."

"You noticed!" I beam, patting the painstakingly arranged curls that hung around my shoulders.

"I always notice, I rarely mention so," Will says, sipping at his tea, the cup looking so tiny in his large hand.

"Well, you should 'mention so'," I say. "It does a girl good to hear a compliment now and then."

"Does Captain. . .Norrington, was it?. . .give you compliments?" Will asks, obviously trying to be sly with pretending to forget the Captain's name. I should call him out on the rather blatant falsehood.

"Oh, goodness, many and sundry!" I say, affecting a breathy, excited voice. "I can't keep them straight sometime with the many pretty compliments he pays me." I look straight at Will, trying to gage his reaction to such news. "Perhaps I shall need to keep little ledger book filled with his words. You could learn a thing or two from him, Will. He doesn't keep me hanging for a week over an invitation to tea."

"I don't believe I could learn a thing from Captain Norrington," Will says in all seriousness.

"He's much better at rowing boats then you ever were," I say.

"He's a sailor. He should be."

"Captain Norrington brings me exotic flowers from the Hot House. You only picked those wild flowers for my birthday last."

"And when you were sick with the ague when we were fourteen," Will points out. (Of course I remember that time, I was just testing to see if he did as well.)

"Yes. Yes, I nearly forgot," I say, wrapping a curl around my index finger and fixing Will with the biggest doe eyes I can possibly muster. The kind that allow me no end of freedoms and presents with Papa. "Dandelions and daisies, I believe. Captain Norrington brought me Tiger Lilies."

"I did not know I was in competition with Captain Norrington," Will says in the same tone one would say 'I did not know it would rain today.'

"Everyone is in competition with others in one way or the other," I say. "Whether it is for someone's affections or bidding against other craftsmen on a certain project, there is always competition."

"What do you compete with?" Will asks. "Or who?"

"I suppose myself," I answer with no trace of jest. "It is very difficult to wish to behave one way but expected to behave another."

"Very trying, I am sure."

"I am serious, Will!" I say, leaning across the low tea table to wallop him on the shoulder when he begins to laugh at my tone. "Society's rules are very trying! 'Do this. Don't do that. Talk to Mr. so-and-so. Don't talk to Mr. so-and-so.' Let alone listing the _subjects_ that are considered proper in polite society! It's enough to make one's head spin." I lean back, brushing stray wisps of hair away from my face. "That's why I prefer your company above all else, Will. It is quiet. Relaxing. I don't have to worry about my hair or dress or be forced to talk about the weather. I can just be myself. You cannot imagine how very comforting that is."

Will smiles. "Remember that medicine you hated to take when we were young? You would run to the Shop or hide in your closet if you even suspected your Nanny was headed toward you with the spoon?"

I pull a face. "Don't remind me. It tasted of Cod Liver Oil."

"But it always calmed your stomach or relieved your fever," he says. "In a sense, you're saying I'm like medicine to you. I calm and sooth when you're frayed from acting as people expect you to."

I grin at his analogy. "You're much better than that nasty dross Nanny made me take." I laugh suddenly. "I would also say _better tasting_ but I have only kissed you on purpose that once and you tasted of salt water." Will cheeks flame scarlet and I can't help but laugh again.

"Yes. Well. We probably both taste of tea now so it wouldn't be much better," Will says.

"I _like_ the taste of tea," I tease, leaning forward so he would have a good view of my "assets" if he thought to look up from his tea cup. Goodness, I'm acting like a horrid, little flirt! How exhilarating!

Will looks up but quickly looks back down, cheeks staining red once more. "Brown will wonder where I'm at. I should return."

"May I come around later?" I ask. "After you're through with your work? We can walk along the shore. I love the feel of sand between my toes."

Will nods slowly. "I'd. . .I'd like that, Elizabeth."

I stand when he does, following him to the door where he collects his hat. "Thank you for having tea with me, Will," I say. "I enjoy our time together."

"As do I, Elizabeth."

He nods, tipping his hat toward me, before exiting. I watch his retreating form through the large glass window in the center of the door, mind already counting down the hours, minutes, and seconds till we could escape from society's plan and just be two old friends enjoying each other's quiet company.


	6. Chapter 6

Part VI

It always feels rather liberating to be free of my fancy dresses with the horrid stomacher and into something plain, loose fitting, and comfortable. Though my dresses with the stomachers are very pretty and very expensive, they are also very uncomfortable. It's a joy as well to be out of the low heels and into some slippers. I've taken down my curls and let my hair flow free around my face since it would be neigh impossible to attempt a braid when it is so. Perhaps Celeste did a little _too well_ with the curling iron. They stick out some and make me look like the angel on top of a Christmas Tree. I just need a halo to compliment my white dress though I doubt I shall ever be granted one. I am too forceful and enjoy getting my way too much to be one of those smiling, innocent angels on the tree.

"Will?" I call, pushing open the Blacksmith Shop door without knocking. "Will, are you quite nearly through? The tide will be in soon and ruin the best sand for wriggling one's toes in!"

Will emerges from where I think he sleeps, patting his cleanly washed face, arms, and hands dry with a towel. He's never allowed me back there before. I stand on tip-toe, trying to catch a glimpse of his bedroom, but he closes the door soundly before I can see more than a neatly made bedspread on a low cot and a chipped wash basin on a rickety three legged stand. I smile to cover up my nosiness.

"How was work?"

"Finished now," he says, rolling down his shirtsleeves and buttoning them at the wrist. Pity. His arms are truly remarkable.

"Do you need to make further preparations before we go?"

He shakes his head, reaching for his jacket before thinking better of it and buttoning his vest instead. I take a step forward, smiling, but stopping short of grasping his hand like I was once wont to do. With the way he's been acting towards me of late, an intimate gesture such as that may be unwelcome.

"Then let's be gone," I say, leading the way out the door, across the street, and down to the water's edge. I steer clear of the pier because the last thing those rowdy sailors need to see in the Governor's Daughter with unpinned hair walking shoe-less next to the Blacksmith's Apprentice.

"The seashore wind is welcome after the heat of the forge," Will says, following my lead by removing his shoes and stockings.

We walk silently side-by-side, footwear dangling from our finger tips. Will's left hand is empty and very close to my right but I don't reach out for it. Though he seems to be in quite a pleasant mood, I don't wish to be scolded and told we can't behave in such a familiar way anymore. What is so magical about turning sixteen? Why has that suddenly created a barrier betwixt us?

"I love the feel of the sand," I sigh, digging my toes in deeper to feel the warm grains wash over them. "If I wasn't expected to be so proper, I think I would like to run like a little heathen across the shore every day. Perhaps turn a cartwheel or two, though the last time I tried I fell on my bum."

Will laughs. "I remember. You afforded me a grand view of your knickers." He blushes suddenly. "I mean, I hope you didn't injure yourself when you fell."

"No, my knickers and I were just fine," I can't help but tease, making him blush all the more. "Goodness, Will, did you ever wonder why I call you 'Will Scarlet'? You could put a lobster to shame with that coloring."

Perhaps because I am already feeling rather emboldened, I give him a peck on one flaming cheek before dashing off down the shore, turning a series of cartwheels as promised. The wind and gravity catches my skirt, but I pay it no mind. If Will wants to look at my knickers, let him look.

"You are perhaps the strangest girl I've ever known," Will sighs, shaking his head when he catches up with me, now holding both our shoes and stockings since I abandoned mine in favor of cartwheels.

"How many girls have you know?" I ask, brushing my hair away from my face.

"My mother and you," he says. "And Mother would never turn cartwheels in the sand and give a boy she was not married too a view of her undergarments."

"She sounds rather dull," I say, grinning to show I only meant it in jest. "I'll wager you have more fun with me."

"I'll wager you shall not get an answer out of me in that regard, Elizabeth," Will says with a grin, chucking my shoes at me just as playfully. "Though I'll also wager you shall make one up to suit your purposes, whatever they may be."

"For your information, Will Turner, I do not sit at home all day inventing reasons to see you," I say, affecting a pout and pretending my feelings are stung. "I only do that in the _mornings_, for my afternoons and evenings are quite full!"

Will laughs again and I'm glad I have made him happy or, at the very least, lightened his mood somewhat. "You are impossible, Elizabeth, do you know that?" he asks good-naturely. "Quite simply impossible."

I grin, doing a little pirouette type dance around him. "I'd rather be impossible than predictable!"

"That you are," he agrees. "That you are."


	7. Chapter 7

Part VII

"What are you reading, Elizabeth?" Papa asks, trying to catch the title of my book before I slide it under the settee out of his view. We're having horrid weather. Not fit to do anything but mope or read. I chose the later.

"Nothing, Papa," I say, sitting up in order to make room for him on the settee. It was Mama's favorite place to relax before she got ill all those years ago.

Papa pats my knee indulgently like I'm still a little girl. I half expect him to offer me sweets. "Captain Norrington has requested your presence for tea at _Esmeralda's_."

"Whatever for?" I ask.

Papa smiles, patting my knee again. "One can only presume in order to speak to you alone on a matter of a sensitive nature, dear."

"Such as?" I prompt, toying with the end of my loose braid. "Honestly, Papa, just be straight forward. I'm in no mood for guessing games."

"Perhaps he wishes to ask to be your beau."

"My beau?" I say. "Goodness, I don't want one of those."

"But it's high time you had one, Elizabeth."

"It's high time I did a lot of things which I shant," I say, yawning and stretching. "Can't I plead a headache, Papa? I do not wish to hear the Captain go on and on about my eyes and how delicate my hands are. I've heard it all before."

"You can't fob him off with excuses forever, Elizabeth."

"I can certainly try," I counter. "If you truly wish it, Papa, I shall go, but know I do not intend to be encouraging if the Captain does which to talk courtship."

"I really wish you'd be somewhat nicer to him, dear," Papa says.

"He hasn't complained yet."

"Because you come across as playing hard to get."

"I intend to play very hard to get," I agree, standing and stretching once more. "I intend never to be caught by the likes of him."

Papa blushes at my words. "Elizabeth, please! Why do you behave so? Your Mother was much more agreeable."

I feel instantly sorry that he's compared me to Mother and I fall short of the mark. Mother was goodness personified. I can only dream of following in her path. "As you wish, Papa. I shall prepare for tea with Captain Norrington."

He nods, satisfied. "What of your china blue dress? I paid a small fortune for it and you hardly ever wear it. Besides, I hear blue is the Captain's favorite color."

"All the more reason _not_ to wear it," I mutter under my breath as I mount the stairs to my room. To please Papa, though, I have Celeste help me into my china blue dress and do up my hair in the little cascading curls that make me look very grown up.

---------

"Miss Swann," Captain Norrington says, standing and taking both my hands as I enter _Esmeralda's _tea room. He kisses both of my cheeks in a very familiar gesture and I can't help but think that it would be much more pleasant if Will was doing the kissing instead of Captain James Norrington. "A pleasure," he continues, holding my chair out for me.

I give him a thin smile, removing my gloves and hat and handing them off to Celeste, my chaperon for the day. She moves to sit at another table a discrete distance away – far enough so she can see me but can't hear what is said in case Papa proves right and the Captain truly wishes to speak on a "matter of sensitive nature."

"The weather is simply horrid today," I begin, patting at my hair. "I was afraid it would spoil my curls."

"You look lovely," he insists, trying to take my left hand in his but I slip it out of his grasp. He frowns, disappointed, but continues in a artificially bright voice none-the-less. "Blue is a very becoming color for you. It matches your eyes."

"Thank you," I say simply, flipping through the small menu of brands of teas, sandwiches, cakes, and crumpets. "If you will forgive me for being blunt, Captain, why did you wish to invite me here? If you wished tea, I could have served at home. I'm getting rather good at that small responsibility."

He blushes. A grown man actually blushing! "I know they last time we spoke on. . .sensitive matters. . .you gave me an answer I didn't wish to hear. Since then, we have spent more time together and I wondered whether your mind has changed or not." He reaches for my hand again, clasping it with the other when I try to pull free. "I care for you quite deeply, Miss Swann. It would be a smart match. Everyone thinks so."

"Everyone but me," I say, giving a tug in an attempt to release my hand but the Captain doesn't relent. "Forgive me, Captain, you are very noble and quite smart with rowing a boat, but I am young. I do not wish to tie myself to one person. Courtship leads to marriage and running a household and that is one responsibility I wish to avoid for the time being."

"You will not be young forever," he insists. "I can be patient."

"I do not wish you to be," I say, finally tugging my hand free and hiding both under the table in case he attempted to claim them again. "Papa has spoilt me quite rotten. I'd be a beast for any man to live with." I widen my eyes, hoping I look sufficiently innocent. "Do not be patient on my account, Captain. Please. I beg you. I do not know when I shall feel grown up enough to consider a suit from any young man."

"If you're asking me to forget about you, I cannot comply, Miss Swann," he says. "It seems I cannot change my heart any more than I can change your mind."

I stand, motioning for Celeste to bring my hat and gloves. "Then I have nothing else to discuss with you, Captain Norrington," I say, pulling on my gloves as Celeste straightens and pins my hat.

We leave, climbing into Papa's carriage. Instead of taking us straight home, though, I rap on the front panel to get the driver's attention. "Take us by Blacksmith Brown's please, Driver. I wish to discuss a commission with his apprentice."

"Oh, Miss Elizabeth, when will you leave Will Turner alone?" Celeste whispers.

I scowl at her. "That is very forward of you, Celeste. Perhaps there really is a commission I wish to discuss with him."

Celeste shakes her head, biting down on her lower lip as if afraid I'll fly into a rage if she speaks her mind. "Always running off to him, Miss, it makes it appear that you fancy Mr. Turner. All the servants gossip on it."

"All the servants are wrong," I say. "Will is a friend."

"That's not how it appears, Miss," Celeste insists. "I'm surprised the Governor or Captain Norrington haven't spoken to you of it. It's not seemly, Miss. It's just not."

"I don't care," I say, crossing my arms over my chest. "Will and I have been friends since we were ten years old. There is no call to explain that to anyone."

"Blacksmith Brown's, Miss Swann," the driver calls as the carriage rolls to a stop.

"Thank you, Driver," I say, fishing into my reticule for some pocket money to give him as a tip. "Please go on ahead. I shall walk home. There's a patch of blue. The sky is clearing."

"Oh, but, Miss--" Celeste begins to protest. I slam the door to cut off any further protest. She puts down the glass to continue none-the-less. "Miss Swann, I shall tell on you to your father! Then you shall be sorry for your bold ways with Mr. Turner!"

"You shall be sorry if you do, Celeste, because it will be quite easy to find a new lady's maid. And you can forget about a reference. If you tell, I shall tell an even more fantastic story about how you steal from my jewelry box to support your habit of drink. I will see myself home. Good day to you both."

I wave the driver on before turning to the Blacksmith Shop. There's smoke coming from the chimney of the forge. I hope that means Will is at work instead of Mr. Brown. Only one way to see. Steeling myself against the pungent breath of Mr. Brown in case he does answer, I knock, count to ten, and knock again. I hear a muffled "One moment!" from within. I'd recognize that voice anywhere. Will – gloriously sooty and disheveled Will – opens the door, blinking several times as if expecting me to vanish like a dream.

"Elizabeth. . ."

"How glorious to see you, Will," I say, making sure my skirts swish against his legs as I take a step closer. "May I come in?"


	8. Chapter 8

Part VIII

Will blinks several times. When I don't vanish into a puff of smoke off to inhabit whatever wicked thoughts he may harbor for me in his imagination, he steps aside, motioning for me to enter.

"What are you doing here, Elizabeth?" he asks. "And so very dressed up."

"I just came from tea out with Captain Norrington," I say, hanging my hat on the peg next to his and stuffing my gloves into my reticule so they won't get grubby. "It was a most annoying afternoon. Celeste had the audacity to accuse me of favoring you over the Captain."

Will's eyes bug and he chokes as if he's swallowed something wrong. He pounds on his chest and I am about to offer to fetch him water when he recovers. "And. . .And do you?"

"Favor you more?" I shrug. "Your company is much more enjoyable than the Captain's. All he speaks of is his wish to court me. It's rather annoying."

"I can imagine," Will agrees, overturning an empty bucket in order to sit on it. He rubs both hands down his face, leaving black tracks from the forge soot. "Do you need anything, Elizabeth, or did you just drop by in order to complain about Captain Norrington?"

"I needed to see you," I say, batting my eyelashes and swishing my skirts. Will is sadly immune to such charms. "You don't judge me like Celeste. She was quite horrid on the ride home as well. It appears to be 'Let's Be Cheeky To Elizabeth Day.' I don't like it."

"You can't always get your way, Elizabeth," Will says. He seems to also realize he's messed his face since he takes out a handkerchief to rub it clean. "That is not the way the world works."

"My world works that way."

"Perhaps you need to stop living in a fantasy then."

"Oh, not you too," I complain, wishing to crouch down beside him but also not wishing to soil my dress. "Don't gang up on me as well, Will. I really have had quite a rotten day."

Will stands in order to arrange the chairs at the Shop's small dinning area so we can both sit. "I suppose you wish to tell me about it?"

"Only if you wish to listen," I say, gathering my skirts close about me so they won't brush the dirt floor and thus give away my whereabouts when I see fit to return home. "If you are too busy, I can come around later."

Will shakes his head. "I am not too busy." He looks as if he doesn't really wish to know, but asks "What was so horrid about your afternoon?" none-the-less.

"Well," I begin. "First Papa insists that I wear blue since it is the Captain's favorite color, then he—the Captain I mean, not Papa—corners me in a public place so I'm forced to be on my very best behavior and he only wishes to speak on courtship. Goodness, how I hate that subject!" I pull a face. Will tries to hide his quirking smile behind his hand. "I excused myself and, when I asked the Driver to stop off here, Celeste accused me of being unseemly. It was entirely too forward of her and I did not appreciate it in the least. How was your day?" I think to ask.

Will laughs out loud this time. "Not nearly as exciting as yours. I was not forced to wear blue and no one spoke to me of courtship. Mr. Worthington did wonder why his fireplace poker set was unadorned when he specifically asked for 'frills' so I received a talking to as you did from Celeste. For entirely different reasons, I am sure."

"You're teasing me," I accuse.

"Not entirely," Will says.

"I do not like being 'grown up'," I pout. "It involves an entirely new set of rules and expectations that I wish to avoid."

"We can't stay young forever, Elizabeth," Will points out.

"Perhaps we can delay it for awhile longer?" I suggest, leaning across the table to grasp Will's hands with both of mine before he can think to pull away. His eyes skitter downward, instantly eliciting a blush and averted gaze on his part. I roll my eyes, knowing this sort of attention from boys is part of being a grown up. "Goodness, Will, do you wish me to lean farther forward so you can get a grand view of my bosom? Perhaps if you get over your fascination now, we won't have this problem further."

"I. . .I wasn't looking," he denies. "I was examining the embroidery on your bodice. They're – I mean it – is quite grand."

"Thank you. Papa paid a small fortune for the dress and I came by 'them' naturally."

Will blushes all the more. "Are you quite finished, Elizabeth? I should return to work."

"Drop by to see me when you can," I request.

"And if I don't?" he challenges, slipping on his leather apron once he stands and returns to the forge.

"If you don't, I shall come around to call on you," I say. "Please, Will, you are my one true friend. I can be myself around you. Don't you realize how glorious that is?"

Will works the bellows silently, seeming to mull over my words. "I shall come around tomorrow then if you are available."

I stand, grinning happily. "If not, I can create an excuse." I move to collect my hat and retrieve my gloves from the recesses of my reticule. "I look forward to it. Till then, Will."

He inclines his head in parting. "Till then, Elizabeth."


	9. Chapter 9

Author's Note: Forgive me if I'm slow with updates. I am in the middle of revising and editing my novel Chasing Byron that will be published Winter 2007 by Highland Press. Enjoy Chapter 9 and I will continue "A Smart Match" and other in-progress stories when I can!

* * *

Part IX

It is so glorious to lounge in a lightweight day dress and actually be able to breathe freely – unlike my fancy dresses with the stomachers that pull everything in and push other aspects up. Truth be told, my bosom is not all that remarkable (despite Will Turners obvious fascination). He just has the luck to observe it when I am trussed up like a Sunday Goose in my Best. Anything would appear remarkable then.

My book is rather dull which is surprising since the title sounded so good at the lending library. _High Seas Adventure Tales_. The only worthy part is a chapter devoted to some character named Captain Jack Sparrow. I believe the author made him up. There is no way such a card could be real.

Jensen, our butler, enters the parlor walking in his stiff way that reminds me of the time when I was very young and Papa pretended to be a monster. The memory stands out since it was one of the only times Papa endeavored to play with me.

"You have a visitor, Miss," Jensen intones, forcing me to sit properly on the sedan and attempt to smooth my fly-away hair. "Master Will Turner."

"Show him in," I say, untying my loose braid in order to tidy it up for Will's sake. He has seen me at my worst covered in mud and bee stings, so mussed hair should not be a surprise, but I wish to look well all the same.

"Good afternoon, Miss Swann," Will says on entering, bowing at the waist. Captain Norrington sweeps his hand out and declares "Your servant, madame." I am glad Will doesn't.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Turner," I reply, matching his formality. "Won't you please sit? I shall ring for refreshments if you wish."

Will nods, sitting in the high backed chair across from me. It is strange seeing him in his dark coat, polished shoes, and clean stockings. I prefer the sweaty, disheveled work-a-day Will to this proper gentleman version.

"It is too early for tea, but we can have cake," I decide, ringing the little bell and ordering the serving girl who enters to prepare a tray of cakes and cucumber sandwiches and a pitcher of Cook's famous lemonade. She bobs a curtsy before disappearing.

"You certainly have many servants," Will observes as if it is his first time visiting.

"Naturally," I say. "Papa wishes us to be comfortable. I only wish Celeste was as obedient as that little Abigail. I shall quite possibly have to replace her if she continues to be rather rude toward me."

"Perhaps Celeste feels she may take liberties since she has been your lady's maid for many years now, Elizabeth."

"Perhaps she needs to remember her station and not give unsolicited advice," I remark, scrunching my face up as if I have smelled something truly vile. "Let us not speak on her, Will. Tell me your news."

He spreads his hands, looking down at their roughened surface. "I have no news to give. Work continues on as before. I live a rather dull existence, Elizabeth. Tell me your news."

"Before you arrived, I was involved in reading. _High Seas Adventure Tales_. I can loan it to you when I am through, if you wish. Chapter 7 is rather exciting."

Will laughs. "You and your pirate tales. When will you grow out of that?"

"When something truly exciting happens in Port Royale," I declare.

"Involving pirates?" Will jokes, covering his mouth with one hand in order to hide his silent laughter.

"I do not see what is so amusing about the thought, Will Turner," I huff, turning my face to the side to show my displeasure. "We live in an island in the Caribbean. There's bound to be pirates about."

"Elizabeth," Will says, leaning forward, hands resting on both knees. "You have lived here as long as I and we have never – not once – been involved in a pirate threat."

"Perhaps they are afraid of the Royal Navy."

"Perhaps there are none around."

"Oh, you are so vexing at times!" I say, taking off my shoe in order to hurl it at him. I am a better shot than usual today. The shoe thumps Will squarely in the chest and he sits holding it in his large hands, looking slightly confused, and a bit like how I imagine the prince in the Cinderella tale to appear.

"You shouldn't spoil your pretty things by being rough with them," Will says, kneeling on the floor in order to return my shoe to my foot though I am quite capable of doing so myself. He has to lift my skirt a little, hand around my ankle, in order to slip it on. "There," he says, rocking back on his haunches. "Do not throw it again. With your aim, next time you will take out a window."

"More jobs for the glass maker," I say flippantly.

Will returns to his seat. "You shouldn't break things just so craftsmen can have work."

"I am helping the economy of Port Royale."

Will does not reply for the refreshments arrive and we busy ourselves with the cakes and lemonade. I wait till Will has taken a large swallow of Cook's lemonade before saying:

"A young man should not view a young lady's ankle unless he wishes to marry her. It's true. The _Proper Way To Behave In Polite Society_ book Papa purchased for me says so. People marry for less in England and the Continent. To avoid scandal, we should head to the church immediately."

As expected, Will chokes on his lemonade and is forced to spit it out on Papa's least favorite rug. He swipes a hand across his sticky chin.

"Elizabeth, do not tease me!"

"I'm not," I insist, continuing with my game. "I can show you the passage if you do not believe me. At least you are wearing smart clothes. I shall have to change."

"But we're. . .we're too young!"

"My Mama was sixteen when she married so we are the perfect age. You can come live here. I don't believe I should like being crammed into that little space you call a room. And with Blacksmith Brown's perchance to drink? We don't want the children to learn bad habits."

"Children?" Will says, face draining of all remaining color. "Who said anything about children?"

"Well, naturally, we would be expected to have children, Will," I say in all seriousness, hoping I can manage to keep a straight for just a while longer. "That is what marriage is about, is it not? We should start practicing straight away."

Will attempts to drink but his hand is shaking and he only succeeds in sloshing a large portion of lemonade onto his trousers.

"Shall I clean that up for you?" I ask sweetly. "Or would you prefer to undress instead?"

Will stands, making haste across the room to the large picture window overlooking the sea, facing away from me. It takes him several moments to speak but, when he does, his voice is low – almost sad. "You are toying with me, Elizabeth. I will ask you politely to stop. If you refuse, I shall leave and not return."

"Oh, Will, stop being such a baby," I say, rolling my eyes and going to stand beside him. I attempt to take his hand but he pulls away. "It was a game. That is all. Just a bit of harmless fun."

"But done at my expense," he says, voice still containing that hard edge to it I rarely heard. "I care a great deal for you, Elizabeth. Do not exploit that knowledge with your teasing games."

"I am sorry, Will," I say. "Truly. Don't be cross with me. I cannot bear it." I reach for his hand again and hold fast even though he attempts to pull free. "Don't be cross," I repeat. "I do not like it when we quarrel."

Will sighs, relenting as always. "I forgive you."

"Excellent!" I say, releasing his hand in order to throw my arms around his neck in an embrace, pressing close. "I do not know what I'd do if I ever lost you, Will!"

"Probably, as you say, make a smart match and forget all about me."

"I could never forget all about you," I insist. "That is the most absurd thing you have ever spoken. How could I possibly forget you, Will?" I give him a impulsive peck on the cheek to prove so. "What a strange mood you are in."

He sighs again, wrapping his right arm around my waist, holding me close to his side. "Let us stay young awhile longer, Elizabeth," Will says, the first time he has ever spoken such a wish. "While we can."

I nod agreement before laying my head against his shoulder. "As you wish."


	10. Chapter 10

Part X

If "staying young awhile longer" entails having Will Turner's arm around my waist and my head upon his shoulder, I shall very much enjoy remaining a child.

"Do you recall the day we met?" I ask. "When we plucked you from the sea on that dingy little raft of yours?"

Will gives a humorless little laugh. I suspect that, though I recall that day in rather good terms, he must not since he lost his mother on ship. "I don't recall the 'plucking from the sea' bit, but I do remember you. I thought you were an angel because the light was behind you and made your hair glow as if you wore a halo."

"That is the perhaps the one and only time anyone will liken me to an angel," I laugh. "Goodness, you must have gotten over that misconception rather quickly once we became playmates and I'd hit you across the knees with my wooden sword or steal your garters so you stockings kept falling down."

"Or make me carry your luggage."

"That's what boys do on Uninhabited Islands," I answer breezily.

"You didn't have to fill them with things," he says.

"What doesn't kill you only makes you stronger."

Will laughs – really laughs – arm tightening around my waist, giving my hip a little squeeze. "Perhaps it would have been better to be captured by the pirates instead of rescued by your father."

"Bite your tongue, Will Turner!" I admonish. "You know pirates take no prisoners."

"Perhaps they would have taken pity on me," he says. "I could have been a cabin boy or galley slave. Sailed the High Seas. Instead, I'm a blacksmith's apprentice who does all the work yet receives none of the credit."

"I shall speak to my father on that matter," I say. "At the very least, he can get Blacksmith Brown to split the commission money."

"I am not a charity case," Will says. "I do not need you to speak to your father on my behalf."

"I only wish to help, Will." I pull back slightly in order to look him in the face. "Don't you want my help?"

"If I wanted it, I would ask for it, Elizabeth."

"Oh, you're very rude!" I say, shoving off completely and going to perch on the arm of the settee. "That's a fine way to respond to an offer of help!"

Will forks both hands through his hair, making it stick up in all directions -- much as it does when he's been working long hours at the forge. "I have a voice. If I wish to, I shall speak to your father myself on the matter."

"But you never will!" I say. "You shall secretly grouse about it but never _do_ anything to rectify the situation. I know you, Will. You prefer to placate people instead of stir up trouble."

"Perhaps that is why I always cow-tow to you, Elizabeth," he says, a rarely heard bitter edge to his voice.

"Perhaps it is," I agree. "And _perhaps_ you should rectify that situation as well. I do know you dislike the game of Pirates, Will, yet you still play. Why is that?"

"Because you. . .because you ask me to."

"There's a simple word you should learn. It's called 'no.'"

"I. . .I can't say that around you!"

"And why not?" I ask.

"Because. . .Because it makes you cry and I can't bear the sight of your tears, Elizabeth," Will says being particularly honest with me today. He kneels on the rug in front of me, hands pressing my knees. "I promised myself – very early on – that 'I shall not make this angel cry.' That was my vow to myself as a boy of ten and I hoped always to keep it. Since, I do know that some of my actions have caused you tears, Elizabeth, and I am sorry. I always wished you happy. That is why I go along with your games and schemes and whims. It makes you happy. . . .I wish you happy."

"I wish you happy always too, Will," I say, reaching out a hand to stroke his hair, touched by his sincerity. "Goodness, you shall make me cry if you continue on like this – though not in a sad way." I wipe under my eyes when I feel them dampen. "How very surprisingly tender you can be, Will. Thank you."

"I. . .I would do anything for you, Elizabeth. Even die for you."

"Let us hope it never comes to that."


	11. Chapter 11

Part XI

The arm of the sofa is terribly uncomfortable but Will kneeling in front of me looking all sweet and earnest is not. I hit on an scheme – one that even Will cannot bungle with his perchance for clumsiness.

"You are so very endearing at times, Will," I say, not being able to resist tucking the hair that has fallen free from its band behind his ears. He stands, holding out a hand toward me, and I hop up, cleverly remembering to turn my ankle and pitch forward into his arms. Will manages to catch me – barely.

We hit the floor hard in a tangle of clothing and limbs. Will rolls, managing to absorb most of the impact, but I still knock my head and bite my tongue as we come to a stop with him braced above me, looking dazed. So much for my brilliant scheme.

"Are you. . .Are you hurt, Elizabeth?" he asks anxiously.

"I bit my tongue," I complain, sticking it out to prove so. "Eez eet beeden?"

"No, it is unharmed," Will says, shifting in an attempt to get up but only managing to catch his shoe buckle on the hem of my dress and pitch forward – knocking his forehead against mine.

"_That hurt_!" I say, rubbing the spot. "If it bruises, Will Turner, you have quite a lot of explaining to do to my father."

"I'm sorry," he says, reaching back to free his shoe. "You know I have no wish to ever harm you, Elizabeth."

"Tell that to your clumsy feet."

Will scrambles to those said clumsy feet, managing to avoid any more painful collisions. He hauls me up like a sack of potatoes, arms around my waist. I turn in those arms, bringing mine to rest around his neck. He takes a step back, but I take one forward.

"When I was a child," I begin, "whenever I had any sort of injury, Mama would always kiss it to make it feel better. I believe you owe me the same considering it was your clumsiness that caused my forehead to smart."

Will gives the center of my forehead a perfunctory little peck. "Satisfied? Now, please, release me. I should return before Brown wonders after me."

"Blacksmith Brown would wonder after his liquor bottle before he wonders after you, Will."

His cheeks burn at my words. "Still, I should return. There's work waiting."

"But you have yet to kiss my second injury." I stick out my tongue. "Ah bih ih, wememba?"

Will's intake of breath hisses through his teeth. "You do not know what you ask for, Elizabeth."

"I certainly do, Will, or I would not say the words."

"Your father--"

"Is inspecting the troops at the fort," I say. "He shall be none the wiser."

Will closes his eyes. "Do not ask me such things, Elizabeth. It is not proper. If your father suspects I even half dreamt of what you suggest, I --"

"Papa will never know unless the servants take up the nasty habit of gossip," I say. "If you are unwilling, Will, I could always inquire after the Captain's ability to lessen the smart of my injuries."

_So that is what the tongue is for in kissing! I knew it had a purpose!_

Will wipes his hand across his mouth when he is through, forcefully removing my arms from around his neck and placing me away. "Never toy with me again in such a manner, Elizabeth. It is very cruel."

"Will, wait," I call, following as he strides toward the door. "I am sorry if I upset you but can we. . .can we try that bit again? With the tongues? I believe I can do better."

Will sighs, halting his retreat and turning to face me. "That is not what upset me, Elizabeth."

"Don't be cross, Will," I say. "I've only ever kissed you a smattering of times and never like that and-and I am sure I can improve. I warrant it shall take some practice but I--"

"Listen to me," he commands, stooping slightly in order to cup my face in his hands. "That is not what upset me, Elizabeth. Attempting to play me off of Captain Norrington is what was cruel in your behavior – nothing else."

"Oh." I smile, relieved he didn't think me horrid at kissing games. "That is very encouraging."

Will smiles, eyes sad, as he leans forward to kiss the center of my forehead once more. "And you did fine on that other bit."

_Drat_. "No additional practice needed?" I ask, disappointed.

"It is not a game we should play."

"But I like it very much," I say, hoping to encourage him. "It could replace Pirates as my very favorite game ever, Will."

"It is not a game we should play," he repeats firmly, hands moving from my face to skim my shoulders and arms before he steps away once more toward the door. "Good bye, Elizabeth."

"Good bye," I say, mind already whirling at the possibilities. I shall change Will's resolve against this new game of ours. I shall think up a scheme even he cannot possibly resist.


	12. Chapter 12

Part XII

"Celeste!" I yell as I rummage through my Wardrobe for an appropriate colored dress to wear to Blacksmith Brown's – throwing the choices atop my bed. "Celeste, I need you!"

"Yes, miss?" she asks, bobbing a curtsy as she enters my room, eyes downcast and acting the proper lady's maid for once.

"What is Will Turner's favorite color?"

"You would know more than I, miss."

"If I knew, I would not be asking," I say. "Have you ever noticed him take a particular shine to any of my wardrobe choices? Peach maybe? Or pink? No, not pink," I rethink the last. "Perhaps blue. No. Blue is the Captain's favorite color, not Will's." I sigh, turning to Celeste. "Cannot you give even just a little glimmer of help?"

"Master Will does seem quite taken with your simple white day dresses, miss," she says. "I don't believe he likes all the fuss and frills of your formal gowns."

"That will make things much easier," I say, grinning. I glance at my reflection in my full length stand-alone mirror – a special present from Papa for my sixteenth birthday. "All that needs to be done, then, is to smarten up my hair and I shall be --"

"I overheard your father speaking today to Captain Norrington, miss," Celeste interrupts – a rarity for her so it must be important gossip.

"Oh?" I inquire, raising one fine eyebrow. "What of?"

"The Captain wishes a ball, miss." She wrings her hands, distraught. "An _engagement ball_, miss."

"To me?" I ask, already suspecting the response. Celeste only nods, unable to bring herself to say the words. I roll my eyes in exasperation. "Goodness, will that man ever learn? Organizing a ball will not elicit the response he hopes. It will only afford me the opportunity to jilt him on a much grander scale."

"Your father seems very taken with the idea, miss," Celeste says. "You may not wish to cross him."

"I do as I please," I say, untying my loose braid and beginning to brush out my blond hair, hoping the '1000 strokes a day' adage really does make it shine. "This is no secret to Papa. Goodness, Celeste, I have no idea why he seems to bent on having me settled."

"You're of an age now, miss," she says. "It's what is proper and expected."

"Me? Doing what's proper and expected?" I pull a face. "Please. Papa should know me better in that respect."

Celeste brings over fresh white ribbons, helping me braid and tie off my hair. "Pretty as a picture, miss. Master Will will be hard pressed to resist."

"Excellent," I say. "Exactly the reaction I am hoping for."

* * *

The door to Blacksmith Brown's is slightly ajar. I peep in but see neither hide nor hair of Will. Drat. This may turn out to be difficult after all. I can't spend all day searching for him. Papa is bound to get suspicious and, if I go searching through town, I run the risk of meeting the Captain.

"Elizabeth?"

I turn, hands behind my back. "Will!"

He studies me critically for a moment and I wonder if I should have chosen more formal attire. "What are you doing here?"

"Looking for you," I say. "I thought you might like to play a game."

"We're too old for Pirates," he says, brushing past me into the Shop, hanging his hat and coat on a peg near the door.

"I didn't mean Pirates." I follow him in, attempting to flounce but the process is quite difficult without a mound of petticoats to swish.

He turns to look at me, raising both eyebrows questioningly as he slips his leather Blacksmith apron over his head, tying it in back. "I am in no mood for games today, Elizabeth."

"I was hoping we could continue our game of yesterday," I say, taking a step forward, widening my eyes to something I hope comes across as a mix between innocent and pleading. If I needed to, I could always pout. Papa can never resist a pout. I wonder if Will can?

"I told you then that is not a game we should play," Will says, beginning to work the bellows to stoke the forge coals.

"But we only just got started," I protest. "There are so many things I am curious of. I was thinking we could--"

"No," he says, very firmly.

I blink, startled. "Excuse me?"

"No," he repeats just as firm. "You asked me to learn to say the word, Elizabeth, and so I am. No. We cannot play that game. It is not proper."

"Are you teasing?" I ask. "Really, Will, sometimes you have the drollest sense of humor. Very funny." I take a step forward. "Now let's play."

"Perhaps you haven't noticed, but I have a job to do, Elizabeth."

"I shall wait."

Will doesn't respond. He just continues to work the bellows and – once the fire is stoked – begins working some piece of metal. I am never very good at telling what things will become under his skilled hands. A future nail looks the same to me as a future door latch.

"Will you be very long?" I ask, shifting from foot to foot, beginning to sweat from the heat of the place.

"Perhaps."

"Do you have any refreshments?"

Will nods towards a bucket of water with flies buzzing around it, a ladle nearby. I grimace. "Thank you, but I prefer to remain thirsty if my only choice is to drink from _that_."

Times seems to pass at a snail's pace. I hate waiting. I sit on an overturned bucket, hiking my skirts up to my knees to avoid the dirt and in hopes of relieving some of the blasted heat.

"How do you stand working in these conditions, Will?"

"One can grow accustomed to almost anything," he says. "The heat is not so very bad."

I finally give in and drink from the filthy bucket – draining the water quickly from the ladle and dipping it in for more. I rummage till I find a dented tin cup nearby and fill it for Will, bringing it to him.

"Even here I can play a bit of the hostess."

Will smiles, whispering "thank you" as he takes the cup. From this proximity I can tell he is very overheated – white shirt sticking deliciously to his chest and arms. Perhaps I should move my bucket over here.

"Shall I fetch you some more?"

He nods and I bring cupful after cupful till his thirst is sated. I drag my bucket closer to afford myself a better view of Will's sticky chest. If he refuses to play kissing games, I can at least enjoy the sight of him.

"Won't your father be wondering after you?" Will asks, metal hissing as he dips it into the cooling bucket.

"Perhaps."

"I do not wish for you to be scolded on my account, Elizabeth," he says. "You should return home."

"But I haven't had nearly enough time staring at your ches—" I blush, mortified at what almost escaped my lips. "I mean, I don't want to. Papa won't think too much on it if I am slightly late for tea. Please, Will, let me stay."

Will sighs, slipping out of his apron before moving across the room to wash his face and arms clean in a chipped basin by the one grubby window. "Let's go. I shall walk you home."

"But I don't want to!" I whine, sounding very much as I did when we were ten and Nanny recommended a nap instead of playing further.

Will is already putting on his jacket and hat, ignoring my protest. "Perhaps I shall be free for games tomorrow."

I perk up at this unexpected news. "Which kind?"

He gives me an enigmatic smile that is so very Will and makes me want to hit him in frustration and kiss him all at once.

"Any kind you wish, Elizabeth."


	13. Chapter 13

Part XIII

The following morning, I write Will a very prettily worded note requesting he join me by the jetty at tea time. The stable boy is more than happy to deliver it for a tuppence and I am left to wait. When we were children, we used to skitter all about on the rocks of the jetty. I never once fell, though Will had the misfortune of ending up in the water on several occasions.

"I only wish a walk alone, Celeste," I lie as the time to leave nears, trying to work the knots out of my bonnet strings. "Papa is not here for tea, so why should I stay in alone? It's horribly dull. At least during a walk I can observe all sorts of people. It's quite exciting. Much more so than being cooped up indoors."

"It's not right, miss," Celeste protests. "You should have a chaperon."

"Don't fret, Celeste," I say. "I shall stay quite out in the open."

She opens her mouth to voice yet another protestation before thinking better of it. "Do you need me to assist in any way, miss?"

"Do not tell Papa if he asks where I've gone," I say, glancing at my reflection in my mirror as I tie my bonnet in place. I had selected another simple day dress – butter yellow in color -- for ease of movement and in the hopes that Will really did prefer simple fashion over more formal.

"Where are you really going, miss?"

"None of your concern," I say. "If I wanted you to know, I would tell you." I turn, hands behind my back. "Do this for me, Celeste, and I shall reward you handsomely. I promise. If you wish time off, I shall give you time off. If you wish a raise in wage, I shall speak to Papa on your behalf."

She considers my words before nodding slowly. "If your father asks after you, I shall say you are sick in bed with the headache."

"Perfect!" I beam, collecting my reticule and the small basket with sandwiches and jug of lemonade that I asked Cook to prepare. "I suppose I do not say so enough but, thank you, Celeste."

She blinks, shocked. "You're welcome, miss."

* * *

Will is waiting when I arrive. He is sitting on the shore facing the water, his hat, jacket, shoes, stockings and garters stacked in a neat pile beside him. His hair blows in the sea breeze and I remember quite unexpectedly what it feels like to tangle my fingers up in that dark hair. My stomach does a queer little flip-flop at the memory. Will turns, as if sensing my presence. He stands, coming to relieve me of the picnic basket, slipping his other hand into mine as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

"I left as soon as Brown fell asleep," he says, leading me to the spot next to his belongings. "I worried I may be late."

"Celeste was behaving like an Inquisitor," I reply. "It was horrid. I thought I'd never be free."

Following Will's lead I remove my hat, shoes, stockings, and garters, digging my toes into the warm sand. He laughs, rummaging through the basket for refreshments.

"I knew Cook would not forsake us."

"She mixes the best lemonade in all of Port Royale."

We eat in silence like strangers, an uncommon sense of awkwardness falling over us. _I_ feel it at least. I cannot speak for Will.

"Elizabeth," Will begins once the picnic lunch is finished. He reaches for my hand again, expression very earnest. "We can play Pirates if you wish. Or Bandits. All your old favorites. I promise I shan't complain."

"I. . .I came intending to play our new game," I say. "But now I'm. . .now I'm afraid." I squint my eyes, studying him in silence. "I don't know why I feel so, Will. I know I have nothing to fear with you nearby."

"It is the unknown," he says, touching my cheek lightly with the back of his hand. "There is always something to fear in that."

"How very sensible," I say, crawling the short distance between us and arranging myself so I sit in front of Will, my back pressing against his chest. After a moment's hesitation, he wraps his arms low and loose around my waist and rests his chin on my shoulder. I cover his hands with mine, content to watch the waves roll in. "I am glad we can have quiet moments such as these," I say. "It makes me appreciate you all the more."

"I am glad I do not have to play Pirates," he replies. "It makes _me_ appreciate _you_ all the more."

" For that remark, Will Turner, I shall think up a truly vile game!" I promise. "One you shall beg on hands and knees never to play again!"

I turn, somehow managing to tangle myself up in his arms and legs and toppling us both over backwards into the sand. I land heavily on Will's chest, knocking the breath from him.

"Oh, goodness, Will, I am so very sorry. Are you hurt?"

"I shall be. . .shall be fine," he wheezes. "Perhaps you shouldn't have eaten that third sandwich, Elizabeth."

I smack his chest, struggling to pull free from his grip. "Release me!"

Instead, Will pulls me closer till all parts of our bodies that can touch do. "I have a game to play."

"Since when do you invent games?"

"Since now."

"What do you call it?" I ask curiously.

"Picking Up Where We Left Off."


	14. Chapter 14

Part XIV

_Picking Up Where We Left Off. _Goodness, it is quite thrilling when Will decides to act assertive. He should try it out more often.

"What are the rules to Picking Up Where We Left Off?" I ask, feigning ignorance.

"No rules," Will says. "You make them up as you go along."

"How will I know if I'm playing correctly then?"

"You'll know."

"I believe I shall enjoy this game."

Will chuckles and I feel the vibrations in my own chest since we are in such close proximity. "So shall I."

He uses one arm to push us to a sitting position. Once righted, I notice Will has sand in his hair and attempt to brush it free. He stills the motion by capturing my wrist and holding it for ransom against his chest. I flatten my palm, feeling the beat-beating of his heart.

"So fast," I breath, fascinated. "Why is your heart beating so fast?"

"I'm worried," he admits, frowning slightly as if he didn't wish to speak the truth but the words tumbled out before he could check them.

"Of what?" I ask.

"Of waking from this dream." Will tucks some fly-away bits of hair behind my ear with his free hand, touch as soft as his voice. "You always express a wish to remain as children, Elizabeth, but this is not what children play at."

"I suppose we can grow up somewhat."

Will sighs and I have the most horrible feeling that he shall renege on the game. I twine one hand in his hair and pull his mouth to mine in an effort to stave off the words I do not wish to hear. He can certainly not protest if his lips are occupied.

Excellent. It does the trick.

Will shifts, wrapping both arms around my waist in order to pull me flush up against him--our hearts beating in time. My arms go around his neck, holding tight. I want more. More of Will. More of this moment. More of everything he has to offer.

The next thing I am conscious of is opening my eyes and finding we are somehow laying side-by-side in the sand, Will's hand stroking my hip through the thin fabric of my dress.

"Will?" I ask, sound muffled since his lips are still against mine.

He sit up, seeming to remember himself. "Elizabeth. Did I. . .Did I take liberties I should not have?"

"I have not slapped you, so you have not offended me," I say, sitting up as well. "Though I'll wager tea time is long past and we have responsibilities to return to at home." I smile, trying to show I am not in the least put out by a bit of a tumble in the sand. "Thank you for a very pleasant afternoon, Will. It was most. . .enjoyable."

Will laughs, retrieving our things so we can begin to pull on our stockings and shoes. When through, he stands, holding out a hand to me which I gladly accept. After, Will shrugs into his jacket and I tie my hat in place. We are once again "properly attired" and "presentable."

"Come around tomorrow, Will," I request. "A day without you is like a day without sunshine."

He nods, reaching for my hand as we set off for home. "No games next time?"

"Well, perhaps _one game_," I tease, looping my arm through his and pressing close. "I just haven't decided which one yet."


	15. Chapter 15

Part XV

"Excellent, darling, you're properly attired," Papa says, extending his hand toward me as I finish my decent down the staircase. "Properly attired" to Papa translates to one of my formal gowns and hair done up in curls.

"I'm happy to see you home today, Papa," I say sweetly, placing my hand in his. He tucks it close to his side, patting my arm as if I were a child as he steers us both toward the parlor. "Do we have company? I thought I heard the bell pull."

"Captain Norrington expressed an interest yesterday in calling on you," he says. "I naturally granted my permission. Such a fine man. Some day he shall make admiral, I warrant."

"Captain Norrington? Here?" I grimace, thankful Papa is wrapped up in his own schemes for my future and fails to notice my displeasure.

"He only just arrived."

"You do not mean to leave me alone with him, do you, Papa?"

"Heavens, child, of course not," Papa says. "Where is the propriety in that? We shall all take refreshments together."

"I also invited Will Turner to come around today when he is free, Papa."

Now it is his turn to grimace. "My goodness, Elizabeth, cannot you go a day without seeing that boy?"

"I don't believe he eats well at home, Papa," I say. "I only wish to do my civic duty."

"We cannot feed every hungry orphan that comes in off the street."

"It shall only be this one, Papa," I promise. "You would not deny me my playmate, would you?"

"No, I suppose not."

Captain Norrington stands as we enter. "Miss Swann, how charming to see you."

"Captain," I acknowledge with a terse nod, choosing a seat across from him instead of joining him on the settee.

"You look quite fetching," he attempts to bait me into conversation. "Is that a new dress?"

"No, quite old," I say, putting a hand to my mouth to cover a yawn. "I prefer not to get trussed up like a Sunday Goose but Papa insisted today."

It is enough to distract him into acknowledging Papa's presence.

"Sir, thank you for inviting me into your fine home. It is an honor and a pleasure."

"Wonderful to see you again, Norrington," Papa says, more enthusiastic about our guest. He shakes his hand as if greeting a long lost relative before motioning for him to sit once more. "Shall I ring for refreshments?"

"That would be very welcome, sir."

Papa rings the little hand bell and several kitchen servants instantly appear with trays laden with sandwiches and cake and the tea things. I do my duty as hostess--pouring and passing around cups, saucers, and sandwiches.

"Your manners are very pretty, Miss Swann," Captain Norrington attempts yet another compliment.

"Thank you but I dare say you have never seen me wield a wooden sword. Then all my 'pretty manners' fly right out the window." Papa fixes me with a warning glare, but I ignore him. "Playing Pirates is one of the most glorious things in the world, I believe. Quite exhilarating."

"Elizabeth has had an unhealthy fascination with pirates since she was very small," Papa explains. "I have tried to break her of it, but old habits die hard, it seems."

"As it so happens, I have met up with some pirates while sailing the high seas," Captain Norrington says.

I sit up straighter, a bit more interested. "Have you now? Oh, do tell, Captain! Were they terribly filthy with rotted out teeth and motley clothes?"

"No, Miss Swann, dressed quite every day, I can assure you."

"Did you witness anyone walking the plank?"

He smiles, pleased that I have taken a shine to the conversation finally. "Not that I noticed."

"Did you have a fierce sea battle where half the crew perished?"

"Unfortunately not, Miss Swann," he says. "We identified ourselves as the Royal Navy, boarded their ship, arrested all on board, and hung them on the spot."

"How terribly dull." I frown. "And unfortunate for the poor pirates."

"They do not deserve your pity," Captain Norrington says. "I am sorry to say that encounters with real pirates are very different from your story books."

"I dare say," I agree.

Jensen opens the parlor door, ushering in Will. "Master Will Turner to see Miss Swann, sir."

"Will!" I exclaim, jumping to my feet without a moment's thought. "How good it is to see you! Please sit. I shall fix you a plate of sandwiches and tea. Cook made cucumber. I believe they are your favorite."

"Thank you," Will murmurs, looking more than a little uncomfortable when forced to sit between Captain Norrington and Papa. He has no qualms about eating, though, when I pass him a plate laden with treats and a cup of tea. "Thank you, Elizabeth."

"You are quite welcome, Will."

"Childhood playmates," Papa explains to the Captain. "That is why they are at ease with each other's familiar names."

"Perhaps we shall one day be on a familiar name basis as well," the Captain requests.

"Perhaps," I reply. "Though as Will much enjoys pointing out, we are not children anymore so you shall have to work very hard to earn the privilege, Captain."

"It would be a pleasure to be deserving of such an honor, Miss Swann."

Will looks sideways at the Captain in such a comical way that I am forced to bite my bottom lip to hold in laughter. "You speak very prettily, Captain," I say. "Do you have a girl in every port to practice on?"

Papa's eyes bug and he chokes in surprise at my audacity. "Elizabeth! Apologize to the Captain!"

"But, Papa! I only inquire since I have read that sailors are notorious for --"

"You also read that pirates have rotted out teeth and motley dress and that is false," he interrupts. "Your misconception of sailors is also so."

I sigh, twirling a curl around my finger. "Please forgive me, Captain Norrington. I meant you or your reputation no harm."

"That is quite alright," the Captain says, excepting the apology gracefully. "You only inquired after what you read. It must be quite a disappointment to have your romantic notions from books be quashed."

"Yes," I agree. "Quite a disappointment."

The clock above the mantle chimes the half hour. Will turns his head, listening, before setting his plate on the low table.

"Forgive me, but I must return to the shop."

"But you have only just arrived!" I protest, standing when he does. "Another half hour won't matter, will it?"

"We are very busy at the moment. I am sorry, Elizabeth."

"Papa, may I see Will to the front door?" I request when it appears no amount of pouting or pretty talk will keep him.

"Make it quick, dear," Papa says. "Remember you still have company waiting."

"Of course."

Will turns at the front door, grasping both my hands in his and stooping slightly to look into my eyes. "I am sorry if it seems I am abandoning you, Elizabeth, but work cannot be left off indefinitely."

"I understand," I say, though I really don't. They are just the proper words to say. "Remember when we used to catch fireflies and store them in Blacksmith Brown's empty liquor bottles?"

"Of course," Will says. "Why did you think on it just now?"

"Because it's been an age since we've done so," I say, squeezing his hands. "I watch the fireflies every night from my window and think back on those nights."

"We're too old," Will says, his favorite response to most of my suggestions lately. "I'll probably be locked up in the clink for 'corrupting the governor's daughter' if we are found out."

"Then we shall have to take extra precautions not to be found out."

Will laughs ruefully. "You shall not give me a moment's peace till I agree."

"You know me quite well."

He thinks on the suggestion a moment before nodding. "Tonight. I shall throw a pebble against your window to alert you."

"I shall wait breathlessly till then."


	16. Chapter 16

Part XVI

"I shall only read a little while," I promise Celeste – anything to get her out of my room and back to the servants' quarters. "I promise not to leave the candle burning this time."

She putters around at an excruciatingly slow pace, turning down my bed covers and fluffing my pillows. "Shall I fetch you a drink of water before bed, miss?"

"No, no. I am not thirsty." I try kindness next. "Thank you but I am quite capable of seeing myself to bed. You need your rest as well."

"Quite true, miss," she agrees, bobbing a curtsy. "Good night, then."

"Good night, Celeste."

I do not have long to wait before I hear the scratching of the pebbles on my half-open window. "Will," I breath, setting my candle on the ledge and pushing my window fully open. "How shall I get down?"

"Climb down the trellis," he calls.

I blow out my candle and swing one leg over the window ledge. My hands fumble in the darkness but I manage to grasp the trellis, pulling myself to it. "Oh, please, please hold my weight." I hear a bit of a groan as I begin to descend, but manage the whole way—jumping neatly to the ground when it grows near. "An exciting start to our adventure," I say, grinning.

"You wore white when we are supposed to act stealthy?" Will asks, not the least impressed with my daring.

"It's all I have that's comfortable!" I protest. "If you think acting stealthy is difficult in white, try in brocade and petticoats."

He takes off his jacket and tosses it into my arms. "Put this on. It shall help some."

I do so, burrowing my nose in the collar in the hopes of finding a trace of his scent left. "Where shall we hunt fireflies?"

"Away from town near the woods."

'Lead and I shall follow," I promise, grasping Will's hand when he holds it out to me.

". . .Drink up me hearties yo ho/yo ho yo ho a pirate's life for me. . ." I sing softly, practicing my stealth by attempting to sneak up on a nearby firefly. "Yo ho yo ho a pirate's life for me. . . .I caught it! Will, I caught it!"

"Shhh!" Will admonishes. "Too loud. We're near Widow Hibbins' house. If she hears, she may send the dog on us."

"What care I for Widow Hibbins or her mangy dogs?" I ask, holding out my cupped hands. "Look. I caught it." Will holds out an uncorked rum bottle and I gently transfer the firefly inside. "And what care _you _for Widow Hibbins or her dogs?" I tease. "She is a young woman still – despite the title of widow. Perhaps she wishes to squeeze you like she does those puss filled pock marks on her face. "

"Enough, Elizabeth."

"Think how her poor heart shall break if she catches us. All her pathetic hopes and dreams shattered by a game of Catching Fireflies."

"Enough, Elizabeth," Will repeats, grasping my arms roughly above the elbow. "Do not speak ill of kind and generous people. Just because you have everything in life handed to you, does not mean everyone is as fortunate."

"Release me!" I hiss, wrenching free when he refuses. "How dare you speak to me in such a tone or manner, Will Turner. It is quite uncalled for."

"Hiding behind the facade of teasing in no way warrants cruelty toward others," he says. "If you had to work just one day for your bread, Elizabeth, you would not be so flippant at others expense."

"You need to step down from your pulpit, Will, and remember who you are speaking to."

"I know exactly who I am speaking to," Will says. "A spoiled little girl who is in serious need of growing up."

"How. Dare. You!" I wrestle my way out of his jacket and throw it at his face. "Your jacket reeks of that piss poor hovel you call a home. It shall take me an age to wash away the scent of you."

I turn on my heel and stalk back toward home, not caring if Will follows. He can go hang for all I care. Imagine! Calling me a spoiled little girl! If he thinks me a spoiled little girl, I shall show him a spoiled little girl.

I use the servants' entrance once I return home, taking off my shoes to muffle any sound of my feet on the stairs. Light flickers from under Papa's door so I know he is still awake.

"Papa?" I call, knocking lightly. "Papa, it's me. May I come in?"

"Elizabeth?" Papa asks, opening the door and looking down at me as if he does not recognize his own daughter. "My goodness, child, what are you doing up at this hour?"

"I have been thinking," I say, clasping my hands in front of me like the good little girl he wishes for. "I have got wind of a ball Captain Norrington wished to arrange in my honor. Please tell the Captain I shall be very pleased if he sees his plans through. I shall even save him the first two dances."

"Why the change of heart?" Papa asks.

"As you say, he is a good man and it will be a smart match if I wish it so. It is what the people expect, I suppose. The governor's daughter and the future admiral. What harm is there in being friendlier toward him?"

"None at all," Papa says. "I shall relay the news tomorrow, my dear."

"Thank you, Papa," I say, tip-toeing to kiss his cheek. "Good night now."

"Good night."

If Will Turner thinks me spoiled, I shall give him the height of spoiled!


	17. Chapter 17

Part XVII

". . .So you see, Miss Swann, real pirates are quite the opposite from your story books," Captain Norrington finishes his long winded discourse on how dull real pirates are as we stroll the streets of Port Royale.

"Perhaps you have not met the right sort, Captain."

"There is only one right sort of pirate, Miss Swann – those at the end of a hangman's noose."

"Goodness, how dreadful," I murmur. "May we please not speak of killing people on such a fine Sunday afternoon?"

"Of course, Miss Swann," he agrees. "My apologizes."

Though strolling with Captain Norrington is the last thing I want to do with my time on such a pretty day, there is method to my madness. Sunday is market day and I know for a fact that Blacksmith Brown cannot part from his liquor long enough to do something useful like shop, so the task falls on Will.

"Buy me a treat," I request, pointing at the candied almond seller's little cart. "Then perhaps we can sit and watch the crowd for a time."

"If you are feeling fatigued, we can certainly rest."

"I'm feeling fatigued of you," I mutter under my breath as I leave the Captain to buy my candied almonds in order to choose the perfect bench lining the market streets. I decide on one near the Baker's cart. I know how Will enjoys the many little fruit tarts and pasties.

"Your treat, Miss Swann," the Captain says, handing over the little bag of almonds with a flourish.

"Thank you," I say automatically, untying the string and savoring the first taste of cinnamon and sugar coated almond. "Mama and I used to come here on fine days such as this and eat almonds and watch the crowd. It reminds me of her."

"I am sorry you have been without her for so many years," he says.

"Four years come Winter," I say. "The ache of her loss has dulled, but never completely disappeared."

"I dare say it never shall."

"Have you ever lost someone close to you, Captain?"

"My brother," he says, taking a handful of almonds when I offer the bag. "He was a sailor in the merchant navy. His ship was set upon by pirates as they were sailing home from the Caribbean and. . .I am sure you can fathom the rest."

"Is that why you dislike pirates so?"

"One of the reasons."

"How very dreadful," I murmur.

Captain Norrington pats my hand, hoping to be comforting, I suspect. "Don't worry your pretty little head over the matter, Miss Swann. Shall I buy your another present to brighten your mood after hearing my sad tale?"

"If you wish to," I say. "I shall very much like a pretty new shawl. The vendor is that direction." I point off down the street. He stands and holds out his arm to me, but I shake my head. "I shall wait. See it as an opportunity to show off your fine taste in picking ladies presents. I look forward ever so much to viewing your selection, Captain. Perhaps I will wear it during a future promenade you and I shall have."

That does the trick. Captain Norrington sets off with a bounce to his step, whistling some tune I do not recognize or care to identify. I have my reasons for plotting to get him as far away as possible. Will is headed this direction.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Turner," I say when he doesn't notice me sitting alongside the Baker's cart. Or perhaps he does notice, but refuses to acknowledge my presence.

"Miss Swann," he says, giving a terse little nod.

"The weather is very fine, don't you agree?"

"Yes."

"I've been promenading with Captain Norrington. He's just left to buy me a present."

"How very good for you."

"Are you still cross with me?"

Will pays for his purchase, glancing around as if wishing to flee, but his feet disobey his head and he moves to sit next to me, speaking very low so no one overhears. "You cannot treat everyone as if they are your servant, Elizabeth. It's not right."

"I only meant the bit about Widow Hibbins as a joke, Will. Granted, perhaps it is not the best I have ever uttered, but I had no intention of offending you."

"You spend your time in your big fancy house, going about as you please. You have no idea how the other half lives," he says, fingers grazing my hand as if he wishes to hold it but thinks better of it at the last minute. "If you did, you would not 'joke' so at others expense."

"Will you show me?" I request.

Will shakes his head. "One trip to the poor house will not change how you go about things."

"Perhaps I do need to participate in philanthropy more than just passing out gift baskets at Christmas and Easter," I say. "If you shall not accompany me, I am sure Captain Norrington will be more than happy to be my escort."

Will's cheeks color at the mention of the Captain. "If you are serious about doing good for the less fortunate, I shall accompany you."

I widen my eyes, hoping to look innocent. "Why, Will Turner, what other reason could there be?"

He stands. "Tomorrow then?"

"Tomorrow then," I agree.


	18. Chapter 18

Part XVIII

"Papa! How do you expect me to be generous to the less fortunate if you barely give me enough pocket money for hair ribbons?" I complain, holding out my open reticule for more. "This simply won't do. How do you think it will reflect upon you if your daughter goes on a good will visit with nothing to give?"

"Elizabeth, dear, it is not a holiday," he says. "I don't see why you feel the need to go gallivanting about a poor house this time of year. You're likely to catch the croup or worse."

"The poor need our charity year round, Papa, not just on major holidays."

"I suppose I see your point," Papa says, depositing more money into my reticule. "Distribute wisely, child. And try not to touch anyone in case they carry a disease."

"Yes, Papa," I say sweetly, tip-toeing to kiss his cheek. "Thank you."

I hurry from home before he can think to send Celeste with as a chaperon. What a horrid kill joy she can be at times! Will is waiting for me near the little crossroads sign. Left the fort. Right the shops of town.

"Sorry if I kept you," I apologize, panting to catch my breath. "Papa was acting quite miserly with his money. I didn't think to bring gift baskets. Do you think the poor will mind?"

Will laughs, reaching for my hands as is his habit of late. Much better (though less thrilling) than his previous habit of staring quite openly at my bosom. "I am sure they will understand. Your presence means more than a mountain of gift baskets."

"I do have coins."

"Any bit of charity is appreciated I am sure."

The Poor House is situated at the edge of town as if the original builder wished the less fortunate to be shoved aside and forgotten. I usually visit twice a year with Papa to pass about gift baskets of food and drink and smile and nod when they call me "an angel straight from heaven." If I were truly an angel straight from heaven, I would visit more often.

"Will, how good to see you!" the proprietor greets Will, looking quite please as he reaches a hand to shake – clapping Will so hard on the back that it knocks the breath from him. "And what's this? You've brought a guest."

"Miss Swann wished to accompany me today."

"I have coins," I say, shoving my reticule forward. "My father, the governor, sends his regards."

"How very generous," the proprietor says, extracting the coin purse I offer. "I did not expect to see either you or your father till Easter, Miss Swann."

"Plans change, sir."

"So it seems."

"Show me your routine during previous visits, Will," I request, slipping my arm through his and pressing close, knowing the proprietor is longing to count the donated money but too polite to do so in my presence. "Where to first?"

"The orphan children's ward," he says, leading the way down a dark, twisting stairwell.

"Why do they keep children in the basement?" I ask, voice echoing on the stone walls.

"To stop the spread of disease."

I crinkle my nose. "Papa says I mustn't let anyone touch me for free of catching something."

"Your father has zero compassion if he thinks anyone can resist reaching out to a child in need."

He is right.

Dozens of bright little faces look up eagerly when they hear our approach. Again, the reaction to Will is one of excitement.

"Will, Will, Will!"

Several little ones swarm around his legs, pushing me to the side in the process. He laughs, letting them pull him to the ground and clamber all over him. I smile, finding a broken down chair that appears able to hold my weight to sit and watch from.

"What did you make today Will? Did you save anything for me? When can I join you at the Forge?" The questions come rapid fire yet he manages to answer all while making it seem that the questioner is the most important person in the room.

_He will make an excellent father some day. _The thought comes unbidden and I am glad for the dimness of the room to hide my blush.

"I have brought a guest today," Will informs them. "This is Miss Elizabeth Swann."

"Your dress is so pretty. Can I touch it? How do you get your hair to do that?"

"Thank you, I enjoy this dress as well. . .As long as your hands are clean. . .My maid works wonders with a curling iron," I answer each in turn. "Can you tell me some of your names?"

I am bombarded with names almost a quickly as I was previous with questions.

'Heavens, I shan't remember all that."

"I can help," Will offers. "It is not so very hard."

"Excellent," I say, nodding my thanks. "What do we do now? Play games? Tell stories?"

"Games!" they roar as one, rattling off a list of games they prefer.

I look to Will. "I do not know if I am dressed proper, but I'm up for a game of Pirates."

"You are always up for a game of Pirates," he teases, giving me that grin of his that I so adore.

"You can be the Pretty Lady that the Pirate King captures," one little girl, Martha I believe, says. "You are dressed proper for that."

I smooth my hands over the thick brocade of my skirt. "Yes. I believe I am."

"Tie you up, tie you up, then we have to save you!" a group of boys chant.

I do not know how they manage to produce rope, but they do.

"Not too tight. Watch for rope burns," Will advises as the boys walk circles around me, tying me to the chair.

"Now who's to be the Pirate King?" I ask.

"Will!" Davy, I believe, says.

"I'd rather he be the Bold Rescuer," I say.

It is decided that Sammy is to play the Pirate King and the game begins. Everyone is overly dramatic, which is half the fun. I do my best to flutter my eyelashes and call "Help me, Bold Rescuer! Help me!" much to the amusement of the band of "pirates." Will manages to brandish a wooden sword and defeat the Pirate King in a rather well staged duel. Now for the rescuing.

"Did they do the rope up too tight?" Will whispers as he unties me.

"Why don't you sword fight that splendidly when we play Pirates?" I ask in the same soft tone he's using so as not to be overheard.

"Because you like to win," he says. "Besides, the Bold Rescuer always gets the Pretty Lady. We can't have the Pirate King sailing off with her, can we?"

"No, we certainly can not," I agree, accepting his hands when he offers to help me from the chair.

"My story books always end with a kiss," Martha says, a cause that is taken up by the rest of the crowd.

Will turns to me, eyebrows raised questioningly. "Shall we?"

"I think it best to spoil children and give them what they want . . .In reason, of course."

Will presses his lips demurely against mine. When he attempts to pull back, I wrap my fingers around his neck and pull him back. The children quite enjoy the show, giving a little cheer that has us both blushing when the kiss is through.

"Can you stay longer?" one little girl asks.

"I'm afraid Miss Swann is expected home," Will says.

"Please, come play again soon, Miss Swann," a little boy requests.

I nod. "I shall try."

We climb up the stairs hand in hand, Will leading the way. He glances over at me when we are once again in the brightness of the outside world.

"You were quite good in there, Elizabeth. A natural with children."

"Thank you," I say. "It is easy when they are so very sweet." I watch his profile in silent for several long moments before asking: "How often do you visit them, Will?"

"I try for at least one day every week."

"And you never told me?"

He turns his head, eyes searching mine. "I was afraid you'd laugh at me and call it 'silly.'"

"Nothing is silly about wishing to bring a little brightness to a child's dark existence. You were quite good in there as well, you know," I say. "A natural if ever I saw one."

"I would have ended up there if your father hadn't fostered me till an apprenticeship could be found. My time is all I can give, Elizabeth, but, to children, that is enough."

"How very wise," I say. "I dare say you put me to shame at times, Will."

"You are learning," Will says, squeezing my hand tight. "One day I shall have the pleasure of saying 'how very wise' to you as well."

I laugh ruefully, rolling my eyes at his silliness. "When we are old and gray and complaining of rheumatism."

"Before then," he predicts. "Before then."


	19. Chapter 19

Part XIX

"I don't believe I shall be missed _quite yet_ if you wish to remain in my company for a time longer," I inform Will, flashing him a wicked little grin.

He laughs, tugging one of my curls playfully. "Only if I wish?"

"_I_ wish to remain in your company longer," I amend. "Can you leave your work off for a bit?"

Will makes a show out of considering my request. "I suppose."

"Will Turner, you can at least pretend a little more enthusiasm for my request!"

He laughs again, in quite the splendid mood which is excellent odds for my enjoyment of the afternoon. I dislike when Will is cross with me, though I know I bring it down upon myself at times.

"What a wondrous idea, Elizabeth!" he says, sounding like he is still play acting for the orphans. "I have thought of nothing else 'sides promenading with you through town."

"Just take my arm and stop teasing," I grumble, tucking my arm into his and proceeding to set off toward the center of town.

The shops and vendors are bustling as usual. I steer Will towards the Baker's cart, wanting to use the last of my pocket money to buy us apple pasties. Will makes a show of wishing to pay but I wave him off.

"Please. Allow me."

"But I --"

"Save your coins, Will," I say. "It is no bother. Papa always gives me more."

"I--"

"Save them," I insist, handing my coins to the Baker.

Will halts his protests as we weave our way through the crowd to one of the benches lining the street. "Thank you," he says as I hand over two of the pasties. "I shall think of an appropriate compensation."

"I can give you some suggestions," I tease, twining my foot around his--near the ankle--as I used to when we were young right before I kicked him in the shins. Will flinches now as if expecting a blow. "Relax," I laugh. "I promise no bruises today."

"Whenever you promised that as children, you pinched me instead."

"Goodness, Will, think of your well worn 'it's not proper, Elizabeth.' Why would I wish to call undue attention to myself in public by pinching you or twisting your arm behind your back?" I suddenly catch the flash of an all too familiar hat and brass military uniform buttons. "Oh, double drat. It's Norrington. Hide me."

"Lover's spat?" Will asks, a touch of flint to his voice.

"In his wildest imagining!" I scoff, standing and backing around the bench. "Are you going to help or not, Will?" I ask, scanning the area for a proper hiding spot.

"Not."

"Oh, come off it!" I hiss. "Be a friend. It's hideously dull to speak to him. I do not wish to spoil my day."

"I know of a spot but you shan't like it," he says.

"I dare say it's a fair share better than listening to Norrington prattle on."

Will stands, pushing on my shoulders from behind to steer me toward Mistress Dayprop's house. With a final unexpected shove, I stumble into the outdoor privy as Will slams the door shut behind. I understand why when I hear Norrington's voice.

"Boy. Turner is it?" he asks. "I believe I saw Miss Swann with you a moment ago. Where has she gone off to?"

"Gone off to?" Will asks innocently. "Your eyes must be mistaken, Captain. I have not seen Miss Swann today."

"I find that very implausible."

"Tis the truth whether you choose to believe or not," Will says. "Would you like me to relay a message on the chance I do see her?"

"No," the Captain says. I imagine him pursing his lips since he must feel terribly put out by Will's evasiveness. "What I wish to say to Miss Swann is not for your ears."

"Good day then, Captain." Will opens the door slowly once the Captain's footsteps grow faint on the cobblestone. "Sorry. It was the first place I thought of."

I emerge, wiping my arms as if that will remove the stench. "Now I smell of a privy. How am I ever going to explain this to Papa?"

"Wash up first," Will suggests.

"But the laundress always does the washing," I complain. "I don't know how."

"I do," he says. "It's quite easy." Will grasps my hand. "Come. I'll show you."

"Where?" I ask, letting myself be pulled along none-the-less.

"The Shop."

"But Blacksmith Brown --"

"Is hopefully out," Will finishes. He looks over his shoulder. "We shall see, at any rate."

"And if he's in?"

"We shall need a Plan B."


	20. Chapter 20

Part XX

"All is safe," Will says, opening the shop door wide for me to enter once he has made a thorough check of the premises. "Brown has gone out."

"How long does he usually stay 'out'?" I ask, nervously twining one of my curls around my finger. "Tis not a task I wish to be interrupted in."

"We can. . .We can use my room," Will says. "You can always hide under the bed or in the wardrobe if he returns before the wash is complete."

"A fair plan," I agree, balking at the thought of undressing down to my chemise in front of Will. True, I have done so in the past when I talked him into bathing in the sea, but now seems somehow altered. Then, I remember feeling carefree and reckless. Now I just feel rather shy.

"If you wish to cover up more, you can pull on one of my shirts," Will offers as if sensing my hesitation. "I've done the wash recent so they won't smell of my 'piss poor hovel I call a home.'"

"Oh, Will, you must know I did not mean such a thing," I sigh, remembering that horrid night all too well. "I lashed out in anger. Forgive me?"

He shrugs, hanging his jacket up on the peg nearest the door and rolling his shirtsleeves up to his elbows. "Words said in anger leave as much of a mark as those said in truth, Elizabeth."

"I know that and I am sorry, Will."

Instead of answering, Will finds the wash tub and drags it into his room. In all the years we've been nigh inseparable, I have never once seen more than a glimpse through a hastily closed door of his room. Though, truth be told, there is not much to see. A bed, a night stand with wash basin, a wardrobe. That is all. How horribly drab.

"I'm off to get water. I suggest you remove whatever you deem to smell like the privy and hang it over the side of the tub. Shirts are in there," he adds, motioning at the wardrobe.

"Thank you," I say, moving to inspect his wardrobe. Jackets, shirts, vest, trousers all neatly arranged and mostly in the plain work-a-day colors he prefers. I suppose boys don't usually get the luxury of playing dress up. His shoes, stockings and garters are arranged along the bottom of the wardrobe just as methodically. I finger one of the leather bands used to tie back his hair, tempted to nick it but, if Will kept his clothes this organized, he probably also knows the exact number of hair bands inside and would know I stole it.

"You were supposed to get undressed," Will says, dumping two full buckets of water in the tub.

"I. . .Celeste always helps me out of my fancy gowns. I don't know how on my own."

Color flares to Will's cheek. "I'm no lady's maid, Elizabeth."

"But you would just have to help unlace my stomacher!" I insist, voice rising in pitch. "I can manage from there."

"I--" He shakes his head. "Can't you reach on your own?"

"If I could, I would have by now." I turn so my back is toward him, motioning at the lacing running from my waist to my shoulder blades. " My ribs smart something fierce if I attempt to twist and reach the lacing myself. Please, Will?"

Will skims his finger tips along the edge of my dress. "Why does Celeste lace you in so tight?"

"It's fashion," I say. "Women are always expected to suffer dreadfully for it."

"She needs to stop being so zealous in her job," Will says. "Can you even breath?"

"Shallowly."

"No wonder you always seem out of breath when I see you run in this contraption."

My ability to breath unrestricted increases as Will deftly undoes the lacing enough to allow me to shimmy out of my dress. "I. . .I believe I shall use the shirt you offered," I say, grabbing the first one that my hand comes across. I pull it over my head nearly as quickly before turning to face Will, standing only in my chemise and his borrowed shirt. "Now how does this washing bit work?"

"First we soak the dress in the water. Your laundress possibly adds rose petals to sweeten the smell."

"And next?" I ask, kneeling with Will at the side of the tub.

"We run it along the washboard. . . .Careful," Will warns when I reach over his arm in an attempt to try the step myself. "You can scrape your knuckles on the board and cause them to bleed. Let me."

I rock back on my haunches, watching. "Will Turner, I didn't know you were so handy with women's work."

"One of us has to be and Brown is hopeless for most things," he says.

"True," I agree. "Though it was very gracious of him to take you in."

"I believe your father sweetened the deal with some coins."

"Papa _paid_ Blacksmith Brown to take you in?" I ask. "Then what's all this rubbish he spouts about doing his civic duty?"

"I believe his desire is heightened when money is exchanged."

"How very discouraging," I sigh.

"We have line hung out back to dry the wash," Will says. "I hate to hang your dress out, though, for fear someone may notice."

"The very last thing I want to explain is why I'm dressed in only my chemise and your shirt and spending my afternoon in your room," I say. "What are our other choices?"

"I could run some line in here but it would take longer to dry." He fingers the heavy brocade. "The material weighs a ton – especially wet."

"I could put it on wet, hurry home, and tell Celeste I fell in the stream near the woods."

"Then we'd have to dampen your hair as well in order for you to be believed," Will points out. "Perhaps I can find a patch of sunshine to place it in."

"Whatever you feel is best," I say. "I defer completely to you."

Will looks over his shoulder from arranging my dress in a spot of sunshine near the one dirty window. "That is a first."

"I do not always make decisions for the both of us," I protest. "I always ask you what game you wish to play."

"But then ignore my suggestions."

"Playing Blacksmith is not a game to you – it is your profession."

"Blacksmith is loads more useful than playing Pirates."

"You learned how to wield a sword from playing."

"I learned how to wield a sword because I make them, Elizabeth, not because of some silly game."

"It is _not_ silly," I pout. "It's exciting."

"To you perhaps." Will crouches in front of me, lifting my chin when I lower it to hide my upset. "Don't be cross. You have got to notice, Elizabeth, that we are outgrowing our childhood games."

"That is the reason I wish to invent new ones," I say. "Please don't give up on Pirates just yet, though, Will. It is my utter favorite."

He nods, rocking back on his haunches. "Shall we check on the progress of your dress?"

I nod agreement and Will stands first, offering me a hand and pulling me to my feet when I accept. We move to the spot of sunshine and once again kneel on the floor to check on the condition of my dress.

"Still damp," I complain, poking my finger at it more as if that will somehow make it not so. "What shall we do to pass the time?"

"Perhaps play a game?" Will suggests.

My eyes light at the prospect. "Which one?"

He grins and I can't help but grin back – heart starting to thump as I anticipate his reply.

"I was considering one of your new games, Elizabeth."

"What a coincidence, Will, for so was I."


	21. Chapter 21

Part XXI

Will sits, back against the bed, holding out an arm for me. I crawl into its warm circle, pillowing my head against his shoulder.

"This is nice too," I breath. "You smell a bit like the forge still."

"That never comes off," Will says, arm tightening around me and drawing me even closer. "You smell of honeysuckles."

I tilt my head towards him. "Do I taste of them as well?"

"I shall have to see. . . ."

Loud clanging and banging erupts from the shop just as Will's lips are ever so close to mine. He pulls away, muttering a string of extremely blue curses under his breath.

"It sounds as if someone is attempting to destroy your wares," I whisper as if I can be heard over the ruckus.

"No. It is only Brown back from the pub," Will says, pushing himself to his feet. "Stay here. I shall see to his state of sobriety. If need be, we can always sneak you out the window."

"I don't want to be shoved out a window!" I protest. "It is probably very muddy and we only just got the dress clean so--"

"And, please, stay quiet," Will says, caressing my cheek lightly – almost regretfully – before pressing a kiss to the center of my forehead. "It will do neither of us any good for Brown to find you here in such a state."

"Agreed," I sigh, graping for his sleeve as he turns to leave. "Please hurry, Will."

"I shall try," he assures me.

I can't help but overhear their conversation.

"Why did you bank the fire in the middle of the day?" Blacksmith Brown roars. "We have work to do, boy."

"You were indisposed and I needed to leave the shop for a time," Will answers levelly. "Would you rather I let the coals die out completely?"

"Running up to the big house, I suppose," Brown sneers. "Going off to let that little miss lead you around by a string, hm?"

"I finished our current requests and what I do with my time after is none of your concern."

"Don't sass me, boy! While you're living under my roof, you follow my rules and they don't include gallivanting about with the governor's daughter."

"Miss Swann is none of your concern either."

Things deteriorate rapidly from there.

I try to cover my ears, hum a song, examine my nails—anything to distract myself from the epic rant that Blacksmith Brown is directing at poor Will. It seems an age, but Will finally returns, closing the door softly behind him.

"Brown has gone out once more. We are safe."

"Does he. . .Does he treat you in such a manner often?"

"It depends."

"On what?"

"On his mood and amount of liquor consumed." He shrugs. "Don't look so shocked, Elizabeth. Handling Brown's moods is one thing I am very adept at."

"It just does not seem right, Will," I say. "Perhaps if I speak to Papa --"

"Two more years we'll be eighteen and I can open my own shop if I wish," Will says. "It is not such a very long wait." He pokes at my dress laying half-forgotten in the puddle of sunshine. "Dry."

I pull his borrowed shirt over my head before reaching for my dress, stepping into the skirt and pulling up the bodice. "You shan't like this request, Will, but would you be a dear and help me lace up?" I ask as I slip my arms into the sleeves.

"Perhaps if things become unbearable with Brown, I can hire myself out as a lady's maid," Will jokes, fingers working effortlessly to tighten the laces of my stomacher.

I turn to face him, smoothing my hands down my hips and skirt to make sure all is in order. "Papa will be wondering after me."

"Shall I see you home?"

"That would be lovely," I agree, tip-toeing to press a kiss to his mouth. "We still have a game to finish as well, Mr. Turner."

"Are you free tomorrow, Miss Swann?" Will asks, playing along with my formality.

I nod, eyes bright. "I believe I am."

"Then I believe we shall pass a very pleasant afternoon."

We both grin as if we share a very wicked secret. Will offers his arm and I accept, pressing close as we exit the shop and turn toward home.

Tomorrow cannot come soon enough!


	22. Chapter 22

Author's Note: I wrote this yesterday (6-10) but then had computer problems right when I tried to upload it. . 

Part XXII

"Papa! What are you doing at home?" I ask, getting quite the shock when I stroll into the downstairs parlor the next afternoon and find him writing letters at his desk. "You are supposed to be inspecting the troops at the fort!"

"Plans change, Elizabeth," Papa says. "It looks of rain. I decided to hold the inspection tomorrow."

"Well, change them back," I say. "I am expecting company today."

"All the more reason for me to be at home."

"It is only Will Turner, Papa. Can't you be elsewhere?"

"If you are entertaining guests, Elizabeth – even just Will Turner – I should be present," he says.

"But you're. . .you're quite the most important person in all of Port Royale. Doesn't someone need you somewhere?"

Papa takes out his pocket watch, checking the time. "Not that I'm aware of."

"What about the dispute over Mr. Covington's pigs?"

"That is for the constable to oversee, not I."

"Widow Shawnee's stray cat population?"

"Again, the constable."

"The crack in the sea levee?"

Papa thinks on that suggestion before shaking his head – determined to spoil my day. "I shall see to that tomorrow when I visit the fort for troop inspection."

"Oh, Papa, you are being quite impossible!" I sigh, flopping out on the settee. "Can't you just take a walk for an hour or so while Will visits?"

"Wishing me out of the house, Elizabeth, leads me to believe your motives aren't altogether pure toward the boy and gives me even more cause to remain home."

"Why don't you just say 'get thee to a nunnery' and be done with it, Papa." I sit up . Since pleading and excuse making have done no amount of good, perhaps evoking Mama's name shall. "I believe Mama would say you are acting quite the prude in thinking that my intentions toward my oldest playmate are anything but amiable in nature. Having impure thoughts over Will Turner?" I give a little laugh, hoping it is enough to convince him. "Goodness, Papa, do you not know me at all?"

"You are quite the young lady now, Elizabeth," Papa says. "I dare say even your thoughts and opinions have changed in regards to certain people."

"The mere thought of kissing Will Turner sends shivers down my spine," I declare, speaking the truth though adding a falsehood next to throw Papa off. "The kind that proceeds a very serious bout of the gripe." I bat my eyelashes and pout, which always works wonders on Captain Norrington and usually on Will though I suspect he just gives in because he is not a fan of affected modes of female expression. "Please, Papa, can't you visit Mama's grave or some such for an hour or so? I shall be ever so good."

"I suppose a visit to your Mother's grave would be an appropriate use of my newly found free time," Papa agrees.

"Excellent!" I say, jumping to my feet. "I shall find your hat and pick some flowers to lay on Mama's grave. Thank you, Papa!" I tip-toe to kiss his cheek.

"We need to discuss the upcoming ball when I return," he says.

"Of course, Papa," I say sweetly. "I dream of nothing else up the upcoming ball."

"I'm glad to hear it," Papa says, patting my hand affectionately. "_Do _behave while I am gone, Elizabeth," he stresses.

I widen my eyes till I am quite sure I look the very picture of innocence. "Of course, Papa. I always behave."

---------

Will arrives at his usual time, which is to say right in time for tea. I previously sent a list to Cook detailing all of Will's favorites so I have them waiting when he enters the parlor.

"What's. . .What's this?" he asks, eying the assortment of sandwiches, cakes, and cookies.

"For you," I say. "Well, not all for you since that would make you quite greedy, but to share with me at tea." I pour him a cup – passing it along with a plate laden with goodies. "How long can you stay?"

"Half hour. An hour at most," Will says.

"Perfect. That is the amount of time I have arranged for Papa to be away from home."

"We're. . .We're alone?" Will asks around a mouthful of raspberry tart.

"Well, if you don't count the houseful of servants, yes, we are quite alone."

I watch his throat work as he swallows hard. "I. . .I suppose that is enough time to get in a game or two."

"I hope so, or next time I shall make you less food."

"Do you wish me to keep up small talk during tea, Elizabeth?" Will asks.

I shake my head, curls bouncing. "No. I wish you to hurry eating before someone sees fit to interrupt."

He nods, following instructions beautifully.

"This part always seems so very awkward," Will says, moving to sit next to me on the settee after setting his plate and cup on the low tea table. He touches one of my curls, coiling it around his finger. "You still smell of honeysuckle."

"You never found out if I taste of them as well."

Will traces my jaw line with a single finger. "Forgive me if I am clumsy, Elizabeth."

"There shall never be anything to forgive in regards to you, Will," I whisper.

He nods, seeming to take some courage from my words.

_Kissing Will Turner_. It is such a strange thing to know that this boy who I used to make mud pies with now had his lips on mine--our breath and sighs mingling. He tastes of fruit tarts and tea mixed with honey and lemon. I wonder if I do as well.

"Miss Swann, whatever is going on here?"

Will practically jumps across the settee and I blink hard several times to clear my mind and focus on who has so rudely invaded our luscious moment.

"Captain Norrington," I find my voice. "Papa is out, I'm afraid. You shall have to wait."

"I met your father on the street and he instructed me to meet him here to discuss the ball." He looks at both of our guilty faces, frown deepening. "It appears I interrupted something."

"I had an eyelash in my eye and Will was helping retrieve it," I say, standing and smoothing my hands down my skirt. "It is impossible to locate something so small by oneself. I am very fortunate that Will was about."

"Yes, I dare say," Captain Norrington says sourly.

I turn to Will, holding out my hand to shake. "Thank you ever so much, Will."

"My pleasure, Elizabeth," Will says, standing and shaking my hand. "I am only too happy to help."

"I hope I shall see you soon for another round of games," I say.

Will nods. "Most definitely, Elizabeth. If you'll excuse, though, I must return to the shop. Elizabeth. . .Norrington."

"Turner," the Captain acknowledges Will's exiting nod.

"Well, I dare say this ball shall be very exciting," I say, turning to the Captain once we are alone. "I can think of nothing else."

"That seems not to be the case with young Mr. Turner about."

"Oh, pish!" I dismiss the idea. "Will is a friend." I put a hand on Captain Norrington's arm and steer him to a spot on the settee. "Please, Captain, tell me about your plans for the ball. I'm dying to know."

He puffs himself up like a peacock at my small crumb of kindness. "Well, Miss Swann, I was considering a theme."

"Oh, how lovely," I say. "Like a masquerade?"

He nods. "Exactly. I am considering some small theatrical performance as well."

"All this for me?" I breath, putting a hand over my heart and hoping I looked very enthralled with his ideas.

"Naturally," the Captain says, being very bold and reaching for my hand. "There is no other girl in all of Port Royale who deserves more."

"I am very flattered."

"I was hoping, Miss Swann, we could make it an Engagement Ball."

I lower my gaze. "You know my opinion on that matter, Captain Norrington."

"Is there nothing to change your mind?"

"Not presently," I say.

"I could give you pretty things, Miss Swann. I could give you every bauble your heart desires."

"I do not need more trinkets to throw in my jewel box and ignore, Captain."

"Can I not prove my love in other ways, Miss Swann?" he asks.

I shake my head, listening to the clock strike the hour and hoping the footsteps I hear are Papa returning. _Praise all things good and holy, it is!_

"Papa!" I cry, using the interruption to pull my hand free from Norrington's. "Did you have fine weather for your visit to Mama's grave?"

"Yes, very fine," Papa says, looking at me quizzically. "Whatever is the matter, Elizabeth?"

"Nothing, Papa. I can't be happy to see you?"

"You seem a little too joyous, child."

I stand, clasping my hands behind my back. "If you'll excuse me, I believe I feel a headache coming on. I would like to rest. Good day."

Both are too polite murmuring "good day" to protest my hasty exit.


	23. Chapter 23

Part XXIII

If I shall be forced into dancing with Captain Norrington at the upcoming ball, at least I shall have a new gown to enjoy.

"Choose wisely, miss," Celeste advises as I flip through the patterns and fabrics at Miss Rutledge's Seamstress Shop. Perhaps Norrington tattled on Will and I, because now Papa didn't see fit to allow me out of the house unchaperoned. "Remember how everyone laughed at Melissa Tunbridge during her coming out ball because she chose turquoise?"

"I believe the color of Melissa Tunbridge's dress was not all they were laughing at, Celeste," I say, deciding on a rather elaborate off-the-shoulder gown from the pattern book. "Do you think the flounce is overdoing it?"

"No, miss, that shall look quite grand on you."

"One can only hope," I sigh, handing the pattern over to Miss Rutledge. "This one please."

"Have you decided on a color choice, Miss Swann?" she asks.

"Anything but blue," I say. "Perhaps red?"

"If I may be so bold, miss," Celeste interrupts. "They call women who wear red 'scarlet women' for a reason."

I frown. "Another color then."

"If I may make a suggestion, Miss Swann," Miss Rutledge says. "Pastel colors go well with your complexion. Pale yellow, peach, or pink even?"

"I own too many garments is those colors," I say. "I wish for something more." I finger the sample of a rich midnight blue fabric. "Perhaps this?" Looking toward the street, I catch sight of a familiar profile passing by the window. Will! "I've decided on this one. Measure as much fabric as you need, Miss Rutledge. My measurements have not changed. If you will excuse me, I need to use the privy." Celeste acts as if to follow so I am forced to fix her with a very stern glare. "This is a delicate matter, Celeste. I need privacy. That's why it's called a privy."

"But your father said --"

"I am sure Papa's orders do not involve the more delicate aspect of human nature. I shall only be a moment." She opens her mouth to protest but I wave any complaint aside. "A moment. Do not make me rethink the wage increase you were granted. Now if you'll excuse me. . . ."

I scurry out the back door, bypassing the privy and peeping around the side of the building. "Will! Will, a moment!"

He stops, looking around as if believing the flower boxes spoke to him, before noticing my frantic gesturing from behind the Seamstress Shop. "Elizabeth?"

"Hurry. I have very little time."

"What are you doing?" Will asks after joining me behind the shop.

"Papa practically has me under lock and key," I say. "It's horrid. He sends Celeste with me everywhere now. I lied and said I needed to use the privy when I saw you passing because I wanted so desperately to speak to you."

"What of?"

"Well, nothing particular, but just to see you and. . .and be near you." I touch his hand. "I've missed you, Will."

He widens his eyes, looking as if trying to decide whether that is good or bad news. "Brown has kept up a grueling pace at the shop of late. I haven't had time to miss anyone."

"At least you are afforded the luxury of a profession to pass the time," I sigh. "I am left with a rather nosy lady's maid, an absent father, and my books."

"And Norrington?"

"Goodness, the less I see of him, the better." I pull a face. "He does not seem to comprehend that when I send his presents back, it means I do not want them. Those latest flowers are half dead from being constantly shuffled back and forth by the messenger boy."

"Write him a pretty thank you note and then give them to charity," Will suggests.

"A grand idea but he sees anything from my hand as a form of encouragement."

"You did agree to attend an Engagement Ball," Will says levelly.

I slap a hand over his mouth. "Bite your tongue! It is _not_ an Engagement Ball! Is that what the gossip about town says?"

He gently grasps my hand about the wrist, removing it from his mouth but not letting go as he should. "The gossip about town says it is only a matter of time before the announcement is made."

"I hope _you_ don't believe it, Will."

"I believe only what you tell me, Elizabeth," he says.

"Good," I say. "I pray it remains so."

Will glances over his shoulder, towards the direction of the main street. "I should go. You'll be expected inside as well."

"Please, visit, Will!" I plead, not releasing his hand when he steps away. "Think up an excuse or I shall think up one for you but I. . .I hate feeling like a prisoner in my own home. Even just a note if you can't come in person. Something. Anything."

He nods. "I shall try."

"Try very hard," I say. "For me."


	24. Chapter 24

Part XXIV

"Elizabeth, dearest, is something the matter?" Papa asks, patting my knee as I lay curled up on the settee – book in hand though eyes staring unseeing at the page. "You seem pale and rather withdrawn," he adds. "So very unlike you."

I curl up into an even tighter ball, hoping it shows my displeasure at his proximity. "You are keeping from me the very thing I want. How can I not act withdrawn?"

"If you mean the Boy, I --"

"I mean my freedom, Papa!" I say, sitting up. "I am used to going about as I please and you have snatched that from me."

"I have heard rumors, Elizabeth--too numerous to count—of your behavior of late with the Turner Boy," Papa says. "When it was just news of your tomboyish games, I could turn a blind eye, but rumors of a different nature have reached my ears, Elizabeth, and they disturb me."

"Idle gossip," I dismiss it. "Would you believe gossip mongers over your own daughter?"

"Sometimes I fear I cannot trust you, Elizabeth," he says. "At any rate, the rumors give me doubt and I do not wish to see you throw away a smart match with Norrington over some dalliance with the blacksmith's apprentice."

"If Norrington wishes to drop his suit over something as trivial as rumors, then, by all means, let him do so," I say. "I'd sooner marry the Pig Farmer's Half-Whit Son than Captain James Norrington."

"Bite your tongue!" Papa says sharply, the only time I can ever remember him raising his voice to me. "Do you deny the rumors then?"

"I do not know the details, so there is nothing for me to deny."

Papa purses his lips, looking as if he swallowed a lemon. "Do not make me repeat them. It is too upsetting."

"I do spend quite a good deal of time in Will's company, Papa, but we are friends. Childhood playmates. What is so very wrong with that?" I pat his hand in a doting fashion that I hardly feel at present, hoping doe-eyes and my resemblance to Mama are enough to return me to his good graces. "There is no dalliance. Will and I play games. That is all. Just a. . .Just a bit of childish fun. Perhaps we are getting too old for such larks—Will certainly thinks so—but I try to hold onto that last little bit of happiness claiming 'childhood' still allows me."

"You are a young lady now, Elizabeth," Papa reminds me. "Your childhood should be placed in the past where it belongs."

"But games make me happy, Papa," I say. "Don't you wish me happy?"

"That is all I ever wish for you," he says. "I hope you find that happiness with a nice young gentleman some day. . .preferably not The Boy."

"Because Will is beneath me?"

"Status is an issue, yes," Papa agrees. "As my daughter, it is your duty to marry well, Elizabeth. Surely you must know this."

"I would hope, Papa, that my duty is to follow my heart first and worry over status second."

"Where does your heart lie?" he asks. "Do you know?"

I shake my head. "That is a question I have no answer to." I grasp Papa's hand in both of mine. "May I have my freedom returned, Papa? It is very vexing to be followed about by Celeste at all times."

He considers my request. "I shall allow it for a time but if even the slightest whisper of hurtful gossip reaches my ears, you shall return to your so-called 'confinement.'"

"Oh, thank you, Papa!" I say, jumping to my feet in my excitement – stooping to kiss his cheek. "I shall be ever so good."

He smiles indulgently. "I only wish you happy, Elizabeth. Prove to me you deserve my trust."

"Oh, I shall," I agree. "Now, if you shall excuse me, Papa, I wish to write a note to Captain Norrington asking him to tea tomorrow."

"A fine idea," Papa says.

I take the stairs two at a time, shutting myself up in my room to write a note, not to Norrington, but to Will.

_Will -_

_Papa has released me from my shackles. Such monumental cajoling on my part deserves a rather special game, does it not? Please meet me at the jetty tomorrow at noon time. I shall be waiting._

_Yours ever -Elizabeth_

I dry and seal the letter before sneaking down the servants staircase outdoors to the stables. The stable boy is more than happy to deliver the note to the blacksmith shop once I flash a tuppence.

"Tell no one," I instruct.

"Of course, miss," he says, giving a little bow before taking off at a run toward the center of town.

"I shall be ever so good, Papa," I whisper aloud, smiling as I watch the stable boy's form disappear. "Ever so good at not getting caught."


	25. Chapter 25

Part XXV

The tide is changing, seawater wetting my toes as the waves come in and out. My shoes and stockings are safely stowed on one of the rocks of the jetty. Will is late, though I shan't hold it against him if he doesn't keep me waiting too very much longer since he may be in the middle of some project that can't be left off. Just because I can flit away at almost a moment's notice does not mean he can. Though I did give him a whole day's notice.

Will sits beside me without so much as a hello or apology for his tardiness. He passes over the note I wrote yesterday – ink smeared and paper crumpled. "This is very dangerous, Elizabeth. You should not write me. What if someone finds it?"

"Throw it in the forge once you read it," I say. "Then there will be no evidence."

"What if your messenger boy had told someone or I was not at home and Brown intercepted it?" Will asks. "Do you realize how much trouble we both would be in?"

"Oh, pish!" I dismiss his concern. "I can talk Papa out of any punishment he wishes to inflict on me. . .Or you for that matter. It's quite a useful talent."

"The point that you are failing to see, Elizabeth, is that letter writing is dangerous," he says, crumpling the note into a ball and throwing it into the sea. "Do not write again. I shall not accept it."

"Well, that's a fine how-do-you-do," I complain. "Aren't you even the least bit happy to see me?"

Will sighs, forking both hands through his hair. "Of course I am."

"It would make me very happy if you act it, Will."

He reaches for my hand, holding it loosely in his own. "How long can you stay?"

"I'm expected home by tea time," I say. "Papa thinks I am out buying new hair ribbons since Norrington is invited."

"Not much time," Will murmurs, reaching up to tuck a bit of loose hair behind my ear, hand lingering on my cheek as he does so.

"Can we be pleasant to one another?" I request. "I do not wish to be reprimanded or lectured. It is very vexing."

"Of course," he agrees.

I turn toward Will, searching his dear face for any clues to his thoughts. "I am content to just sit in silence if you wish. We do not always need to play games. We can talk of books or. . .or blacksmithing or anything you wish," I say. "I shall let you decide."

"What I wish cannot be spoken," Will says. "I lack courage."

My eyes widen in interest. "Surely, speaking one's thoughts cannot be hard. I do so all the time."

Will gives a brief, rueful laugh. "You are you, though, Elizabeth. You never worry over the consequences of your words or actions. My mind is teaming with things that shall never be said."

"Why ever not?" I wonder.

He leans forward to kiss the center of my forehead. "Because I lack courage."

"You've said so already," I remind him. "Have you no other reason, Will?"

"None that shall satisfy you," he teases.

"So that is the sort of game you wish to play today!"

I knock Will over and sit on him, knees on either side of his hips, as I used to force him into 'surrendering' when we were children before I made him to eat a mud pie.

"Elizabeth, what are you doing?"

"Checking if you are still ticklish," I say, testing the spot in the center of his ribs. Will squirms, grabbing my arms and rolling till our positions are reversed.

"I am stronger than when were we ten," he says. "Besides, I let you win then."

"Liar," I say, kicking to free myself. The attempt only makes Will press my wrists against the sand more firmly. "You're not playing fair, Will!"

"You never do, Elizabeth."

"Shall we call a truce and agree to be more sporting in the future?"

"Truce," Will agrees, pulling me up along with him as he climbs to his feet. He pauses, listening to the church bells chime the hour. "Nearing tea time. Shall I see you home?"

I retrieve my shoes and stockings from their rock, turning so Will won't get too clear a view of my bare legs as I roll on my stockings and tie them with garters. "Best not to be seen in each other's company so openly. Perhaps you can pretend to run into me in town and then see me home?"

"It all seems very underhanded."

"Nonsense." I dismiss his concerns with a devilish grin. "Besides, a little excitement never hurt anyone."

"You say so now. . . ."

I tip toe to kiss him briefly. "I say so now, I say so infinitely. Since I cannot write you, when can we meet again?"

"If your father will allow it, I shall come around when I am free."

I nod. "Leave Papa to me." The thought of having to act pleasant toward Norrington at the upcoming tea makes me frown. "I do hope the Captain doesn't take hope from my inviting him to tea."

"Norrington would take hope if you said the chamber pot matched his eyes."

I laugh. "Or the chamber pot contents."

Will laughs as well. "I believe your 'what doesn't kill you only makes you stronger' advice is appropriate. You shall be a stronger woman for it."

"Promise to allow me to complain to you after," I request, reaching for his hand as we begin toward town. "That shall make the ordeal more bearable."

Will nods. "Complain to your heart's content. . .I am used to it."

"Oh, you beast!" I say, swatting his arm. "What a horrid thing to say."

"Truce?" he asks, repeating my words of earlier.

"Truce," I agree. "But only if you promise to buy me an apple pasty."

Will nods. "A small price to pay."

"Say you promise!" I say, swinging his hand as we walk.

Will leans close, seeming to smell my hair before pressing a kiss to the top of my head. "I promise."


	26. Chapter 26

Part XXVI

"There, miss, pretty as a picture," Celeste says, taking a step back to examine me after putting the finishing touches on my hair. "Blue suits you, miss – even if you don't particularly care for it."

"I loathe it," I say, draping the shawl Captain Norrington bought about my arms. At least he had the sense to not choose blue for that. It was a rather pleasant shade of rose with just the right amount of fringe about the edge. "I only chose this dress today because Papa requested it."

"If you don't mine me saying so, miss, you spent quite a time choosing ribbons in town today."

I scowl. "I do mind you saying so, Celeste. It is rather bold of you to be questioning my shopping habits. Next I suppose you'll say I really ran off to meet Will Turner."

"No, miss, I hope you have enough sense not to do so."

"That is too bold as well," I say. "Really, Celeste, remember your place in this household."

"Yes, miss. Sorry, miss," Celeste says, bobbing a curtsy.

Even from upstairs, I can hear the clock in the parlor strike four. I stand, sighing as if I go to the executioner instead of tea with Captain Norrington. "Wish me luck. I shall need it."

--------

Norrington stands as I enter the parlor. "Miss Swann. A pleasure as always. And I see you are wearing the shawl I purchased. It's a fine color on you."

"Thank you," I say. Papa has outsmarted me and occupied the single chair so I am forced to sit on the settee with the Captain. I automatically begin the process of filling tea cups and passing them around along with the serving tray of sandwiches and cakes. "Have you been well, Captain?"

He nods. "As well as can be expected. My duty to the Navy is terribly demanding and there is also the soirée to plan."

I think he expects me to offer to help lessen his load regarding the Ball but I am not in the mood to play along. "It sounds exhausting yet, somehow, I believe you shall manage."

"Do you object to the Ball being held in the Officer's Barracks?" he asks. "There's a splendid area for dancing. The boys sometimes like to get up a local dance now and again but nothing near as grand as I have planned."

"Whatever you think is best, Captain."

"I'd rather hear your opinion on the matter, Miss Swann."

"No you wouldn't."

He reaches for my hand, thinking me coy instead of simply disinterested. He frowns slightly when I pull away. "I certainly would. Please, Miss Swann, what do you think of the upcoming Ball?"

"I think Balls were invented for young ladies to show off their assets in the hopes of marrying well. Everyone parades about like cattle. It is horribly distressing."

"But you've always enjoyed dancing, Elizabeth," Papa says.

"That was before you expected me to be like one of the cattle," I reply. "I am _tired_ of all this talk of 'smart matches' and 'the proper thing to do', Papa. I wish to wade barefoot in the sea and sing pirate songs – not make small talk and pretend to be coy by hiding behind my fan."

"Elizabeth, dear, what has gotten in to you?" Papa asks, giving Norrington a look that clearly says 'it is not my fault– she takes after her mother.'

"Life has gotten in to me, Papa," I sigh. "It is a very heavy weight you are forcing me to carry. Cannot you lessen it somewhat?"

"If I may be so bold, Miss Swann," Captain Norrington interrupts. "I shall be very happy to take on any hardships you may feel overwhelmed by."

"But you just spoke of being burdened yourself, Captain," I say.

He captures my hand, holding it tight in both of his to prevent me from pulling it away again. "I shall forever do anything in my power to see you happy and content, Miss Swann."

I pull a face. "Goodness, I didn't ask for so much."

"I wish you happy."

"Many people wish me happy."

"Then allow me to say I wish it _more so_ for I firmly believe that any future happiness of my own rests firmly in yours."

"Such a declaration." I turn to Papa. "Are you hearing this, Papa? Will you allow the Captain to speak to me in such a fashion?"

Papa nods. "I believe the Captain is a sincere, earnest young man who only wishes to express his true heart, Elizabeth. You would do well to listen."

Instead, I ask to be excused.

"Forgive me, Papa. . .Captain Norrington. I'm feeling horribly fatigued. Good day."

I remember to curtsy before exiting the room. As the door closes behind me, I hear Papa explain "So like her mother in looks and temperament. I pray you have an easier time winning her than I did my Elizabeth, may she rest in peace. My daughter may seem a restless filly now, but, I assure you, Captain, once the ring is on her hand she shall settle down nicely."

"Imagine!" I grumble out loud, hands balling into fists at my side. "Comparing me to a horse! I am not prize to be won – by Norrington or. . .or any man!"

Part of me wishes to run away – to prove to all that I am useful and not the spoiled, pampered little princess so many believe me to be. I have a sound mind and possess many useful skills. Well, at any rate, I could _learn_ many useful skills. I imagine myself running off to the docks, disguising myself as a boy, and joining up with the first Merchant Navy ship I come across. The thought is fleeting, though. As the scenario plays out, an imagine of Will comes quite unexpected to mind. How could I ever leave him? Will is perhaps the only good spot in my dull, predictable life. Though he can be rather harsh with his opinions at times, so can I.

_Will_.

"Running away shall have to wait for another day," I whisper. "Tonight, I wish to see Will."


	27. Chapter 27

Part XXVII

"Thank you, Celeste," I remember to say as she helps unlace me so I can slip my infinitely more comfortable day dress over my head. I move to sit on my bed, watching as she hangs the horrid blue thing in the wardrobe, smoothing out the non-existent creases. I do not believe something as thick as brocade creases, though, perhaps I am wrong. What do I know really?

"You look as if you have something on your mind, miss," Celeste says, hanging a little sachet of lavender around the hook part of the dress hanger to keep it smelling fresh.

"There is so much I do not know, Celeste. So much I have not seen."

"There will be time enough for that, miss, when you are older," she rationalizes.

"I suppose," I agree. "Do you ever wish for adventure?"

"Me, miss?" she asks, blinking slowly as if startled I actually wished to engage her in a real conversation instead of bossing her about or threatening to dock her pay. "What would I do with adventure?"

"Enjoy it for one," I say. "Don't you ever think – even just for a second – that life at Port Royale is terribly dull?"

"No, miss, life here suits me fine." She brushes her hand down the sleeve of my blue dress one last time before closing the wardrobe door. "You would do well to feel the same."

"I believe I shall go for a walk," I change track, standing and wrapping the Captain's shawl about my shoulders. "Perhaps some fresh air shall clear this restlessness and I shall feel content again."

"Do you wish for company, miss?"

"No, but do tell Papa I am unwell if he asks," I say. "I shan't be gone long."

Celeste bobs a curtsy as I hurry for the servant's staircase. I really do wish to be alone. I really do.

Until my feet carry me toward the Blacksmith Shop.

I dread to knock for fear of dirtying my hand and giving away where I've gone during my "walk."

Perhaps if I just wait a time longer, I shall be fortunate and Will will come out himself.

"Elizabeth?"

I whirl in the direction of the voice. "Papa bent the fireplace poker and needs it fixed!" I blurt out the first lie that comes to my lips, expecting Blacksmith Brown or Captain Norrington to be about, but they only ever call me "Miss Swann" which means it can only be one person. "Oh. It's you."

Will raises one dark eyebrow. "You are quite horrid at lying, Elizabeth."

"I came to see you so this saves me the trouble of knocking."

"Brown's about. We wouldn't be alone inside."

"Is there some other spot we can talk?"

"Around back," Will says, leading the way. Once we round the corner, he motions at the sagging back step. "Watch for splinters. That would be quite tricky to explain to your father."

I lay my shawl down as a cushion. "There." I flash Will a grin. "No splinters in unmentionable places now."

"Clever," he agrees, sitting next to me, the step groaning under our weight. "Two visits in one day. You must be very bored, Elizabeth."

"How can I ever be bored around you, Will?" I ask. "Goodness, don't talk such nonsense."

"If you've come to ask for another round of games, I have little time. I told Brown I was off to the docks for a cool down. He possibly already expects me back."

"I just wish to be in your company, Will," I say, scooting closer to lay my head on his shoulder. Will's arm instantly goes around my shoulders, pulling me close, till I can feel the warmth of his body through my thin clothing. How very exciting. "You calm my mind, Will. You are the only one who can."

"And what great drama has got your mind teaming now, Elizabeth?" he asks.

"This horrid Ball the Captain is planning," I say. "Generally, I am quite fond of dancing but just the mere thought of having to make small talk and be everything good and proper turns my stomach. He imagines me someone different than who I am. I do not wish to play act through my own life."

"Would it be so very bad if you showed him the girl who runs barefoot down the beach turning cartwheels?" Will asks. "Or the girl who is quite accurate with a wooden pirate sword? If Norrington believes himself smitten with you, he should see all sides – not just what your father wishes to present to the world."

"What if he's not smitten with the girl who turns cartwheels or plays pirates?"

Will leans his head against mine. "Then I don't believe you shall be too upset over the loss of one suitor."

"Not if it is Norrington."

"Do you. . .have. . .other suitors?" Will asks.

"Not that I know of though there may be some young politician that Papa wishes me to set my cap on." I pause, pondering the question and Will's odd phrasing of it. "Why? Do you wish to be added to the ranks?"

"M-Me? Your suitor?" he sputters. "No. . .I mean yes. . .I mean who wouldn't. . . but I. . .It's not proper, Elizabeth."

"How terribly coherent of you, Will," I tease. "I believe you gave me four answers all rolled up together. Why don't you try for one."

"It's not proper," he says. "That is my one answer."

"Not everything is safe and narrow and proper," I say. "Especially love, I am beginning to suspect."

"No, especially not love," he agrees.


	28. Chapter 28

Part XXVIII

"What is love really?" I sigh, enjoying the feel of Will's arm around my shoulder and body against mine far too much to not invent some manner of continuing the delicious moment. I suspect Blacksmith Brown may be tearing the town up shortly looking for Will, but I wish to linger in this little pocket of bliss. How very silly of me to take such comfort in the small gesture of a boy's arm around my shoulders – especially when the boy in question is Will Turner. Yet there's a calmness about Will that seeps into me as well when we are like this. Everything in my very active brain shuts off and I feel at peace.

"I believe there are different types of love," Will says, answering the question I forgot I even asked. "There is, of course, parental love and then there is romantic love."

"Tell me about your parents," I request. "You barely speak of them."

"My father was a sailor and my mother was a maid to a fancy lady. We lived below-stairs with the other servants of the house when Father was absent and kept a little cottage Mother inherited in town when he was in port. Father always came home with the most remarkable stories. I used to love sitting by the fire listening to him recount his adventures."

"I wish Papa had exciting stories to tell. Then perhaps I could stand being in his company for longer spans of time."

"I was in the habit of waiting at the docks for Father's ship when he was expected home and, one day, he never came. I returned every day hoping he was only delayed by storm but. . .he never came. Instead, we received a strange medallion wrapped up inside a letter. His last letter it turns out. Mother could not accept the fact that Father was quite possibly dead, so she packed us up, sold the cottage, bought passage on a ship heading to his last known port of call, and sailed in search of him. On the way, our ship was attacked and you are familiar with the rest. My last memory of my mother is her helping to lower me onto the little makeshift raft you and your father rescued me from. She threw down the medallion – Father's last present to us – but I must have lost it. I remember feeling it about my neck when I finally lost consciousness but it was gone when I awoke to see you standing over me."

"How very distressing," I say. "I don't believe I like that story. . .except for the part of finding you on the raft. It was quite fun nursing you back to health. I felt very grown up."

"Not all stories end happily, Elizabeth," Will says. "Despite what your storybooks may say."

"I know," I reply. "Though it is much nicer when they do." I hate to do it since I am so very warm and content resting against Will, but I raise my head off his shoulder to search his dark eyes. "You also spoke of 'romantic love.' Surely there must be a reason besides wishing to sound philosophical. Is there someone you fancy, Will?"

"M-M-Me? F-Fancy someone? Why do you ask?"

"Because I know someone who fancies you!"

"Y-You do?"

"Of course. It is rather obvious to anyone with eyes in their head," I say. "Sally Simpkins, the Baker's Daughter! She's got quite the yen for you, Will!"

"I. . .I hadn't noticed."

I roll my eyes. "Lord, Will, she simpers like a salivating dog. You truly haven't noticed?"

"I must have other things on my mind."

"And have you _seen_ how much she bends over when you're about? It's like she's always dropping coppers and needing to pick them up. Goodness, I swear if her blouse was any lower, her bosom would fall clean out for all the world to see."

"I hadn't noticed," he repeats.

"Boys can be so dense at times," I say. "Perhaps that is why girls must go to extreme measures to get their attention."

"Do you fancy anyone?" Will turns my question about on me.

"Me?" I frown, thinking. "I suppose there are many handsome sorts about – especially since the new regiment transferred to the fort -- but I. . .fancy anyone? I suppose I have never given it much thought. The only boys I've spent any amount of time near are Norrington and you. I can't stand being in Norrington's company and I can't stand _not_ being in yours, so I suppose, if I did think to set my cap on anyone, it would be you, Will."

"Your father wouldn't approve."

"Papa doesn't approve of a great many things I do but that has not stopped me yet." I laugh suddenly, flashing Will a grin. "You are my very, best friend, Will. Remember when I dared you to stick your hand in a beehive when we were twelve? I am such a silly goose to think that – even for an instant – we could be more."

"Sometimes, even 'very best friends' yearn for more, Elizabeth," Will says.

"Now you're the silly goose," I tease, patting his cheek before leaning forward to kiss the spot my hand just was. "I shall not ask you to see me home since Blacksmith Brown is expecting you. I shall only ask that you come around tomorrow if you are free."

Will nods, watching as I stand. "I shall try."

"Don't say you'll try, say you'll come around," I request, smoothing my hands down the sides and back of my dress before retrieving the shawl we used as a cushion. "It is the only answer I shall accept, Will."

He nods again, slowly, as if considering the request though, really, what is there to think over? "I shall come around tomorrow, Elizabeth. I still owe you those apple pasties."

I grin. "As long as you purchase them when Sally Simpkins is not about, I shall accept them."


	29. Chapter 29

Part XXIX

"Sally Simpkins sends her regards," Will jokes the following afternoon, tossing me the small package of apple pasties. "What excuse did you use to fob off Celeste this time?"

"I said I wished to contemplate my role in the upcoming ball by strolling through the woods alone," I say. "I stressed the 'alone' bit when she insisted on coming with and—lo!--I am alone."

"Alone with me," Will says, following as I begin toward our usual path through the woods.

"Even better."

"Is there any particular reason you wish to see me today, Elizabeth?" Will asks, holding back a low hanging branch.

"The weather is fine, we are young. . .Why do I need a particular reason, Will?"

"Because it feels very much like we are sneaking about."

"We _are_ sneaking about, silly," I say, hoping a smile will dissipate his fears. "But not in any sort of scandalous way if you're worried about my reputation or yours. We're just. . .friends. . .out for a pleasant afternoon stroll."

"Through the woods alone."

"And what of it?" I challenge. "If you are going to be Mr. Crabby Garters, Will, you might as well leave me in peace. I do not wish to be harped at today."

"You can't always get your way, Elizabeth."

"You can't always be the moral compass you so desperately try to be, Will."

He stops. "What do you mean by that?"

I stop as well, turning to face him, hand on hip. "Oh, come off it, Will. You're a boy--like every other boy in Port Royale. You try desperately to be so loyal and noble and _good_ but you never give yourself a chance to let go. Let go and say what's really on your mind for once." I take a step forward till we are toe-to-toe. "What do you want, Will? Really and truly, what do you want?"

"You," he says without a hint of hesitation. "I want you."

He reaches a hand toward my face, fingers soft, breath warm, and --

"Elizabeth?"

I blink, hard, the daydream scattering. "Will."

"What were you thinking on?" he asks.

"Nothing," I say, standing from the back steps and attempting a smile which falls horribly flat. "Have you brought the apple pasties?"

He tosses the little package at me. "Sally Simpkins sends her regards."

"Wh. . .What did you say?"

"It was nothing," Will says. "A joke. I didn't really buy them from Sally Simpkins. Her father was the only one at the cart."

"I'm not angry," I say, beginning toward our favorite path through the woods. "It just seems a silly thing to say after our discussion yesterday."

"It was meant to be silly, Elizabeth," Will says, holding a low hanging branch back. "That's why it's called a joke."

"Very funny," I say, biting into one of the pasties before passing him the other. "That horrid ball is fast approaching and I can't even claim a headache to avoid it."

"From what I hear about town, it is in your honor so you must attend."

"I know, but that doesn't mean I particularly relish the task."

"Make an appearance, plead the headache, leave early," Will rationalizes as if he escapes from balls nightly. "No one's going to call you out in the middle of the Officers' Barracks. Especially not in front of so many people."

"A smart plan," I agree. "Do you think it will work?"

"Only one way to know for sure," he says, licking the last bits of sugar and apple filling from his finger tips. Oh! If only he would do so to my fingers! "Elizabeth? Elizabeth, is anything the matter?"

I shake my head, the far, far too vivid images of Will's mouth and my fingers dissipating. "No. Nothing is the matter. I am fine, Will. Thank you for asking."

"Do you have a destination in mind or are we just walking?" he asks.

"Just walking," I say. "Any time in your company is time well spent, I believe."

Now it is Will's turn to look a bit disorientated. "Thank you."

"You are quite welcome."

"Have you thought about what you shall say if Norrington takes the opportunity to propose at the Ball?" he asks.

"Oh goodness, he has done so already!"

"He. . .He has?"

"Well, not presented me with a ring, but he has implied that he wishes to. I have been as firm in my refusal as possible, but nothing seems to deter the man."

"Perhaps he is the sort who enjoys the chase and you are the prize," Will says.

"I don't like the thought of being anyone's prize to be won," I say. "It's so old fashioned. Practically barbaric."

"Do you believe you shall ever allow yourself to be caught?"

"Not by Norrington."

"By. . .anyone. . .ever?" Will asks.

I laugh, stopping in the path in order to turn and face him. "How silly you can be at times, Will. Naturally, I suppose I will marry one day. It is what is expected of me and a duty I will follow in time. Till then, I shall enjoy being young and hope to fob off any suitors who wish to call."

"Any. . .suitor?"

I laugh again. "Goodness, who could possibly call that I would not reject?"

"No one, I suppose," Will mutters. He brushes a lock of loose hair away from his face. "Shall we return, Elizabeth?"

"If you wish it," I reply.

He considers the choice before nodding. "I do not know when I will be free again. I am sorry."

"Perhaps I can come around if ever you take a walk near the docks to cool off?"

Will shrugs, looking straight ahead at the path instead of at me. "If you wish it, though being seen so publicly may start the gossips' tongues wagging once more."

"It is a chance I will take." I touch his arm briefly, hoping to life him from his sudden melancholy. "You are worth the risk, Will."

Will smiles, slightly cheered. "As are you, Elizabeth. As are you."


	30. Chapter 30

Part XXX

"Lord, Will, I thought you'd never come!" I say, grabbing his arm and steering around the small group of fishermen clustered at the docks. "I have been promenading up and down and up and down for an age. Those fish mongers have been quite cheeky. I shall have to tell Papa of the incident." Will bites down on his lower lip, trying not to laugh. "It's not funny!" I hiss, hitting him with my open fan. "You try ignoring the caterwauling of those horrid men!"

"Elizabeth," Will says, body shaking with silent laughter. "There is only one sort of woman who walks the docks alone at this hour-- or any hour for that matter. You should have brought Celeste to show you were a lady of quality."

"Does not my dress attest to the fact?" I ask, motioning at the cream brocade with gold threads shot through. "Granted, it is not the most practical choice in heat such as this, but I should not be mistaken for anything than what I am."

"Perhaps they recognized you as the Governor's Daughter and wished a bit of sport," Will says. "I'm sure it is all very harmless."

"One gentleman – and I use the term loosely – offered me a bob to lift my skirts to show off my ankles."

"Did you accept?"

"Will Turner! What sort of question is that?" I snap, hitting his shoulder repeatedly with my fan. "Of course I didn't accept!"

"What if I offered you a sovereign?"

"Goodness, Will, if you want to see my ankles that badly, I will show them to you for free."

We stop at the end of the dock and lean against the rail, watching the sea and ships. The wind snatches my hat from atop my head but it is saved from ending up in the drink by Will's nimble hands.

"Thank you," I say as he returns it. "I didn't think to bring a hat pin."

"It will only blow off again if you tie it like that," Will says.

My hands still in my attempt to tie the hat strings beneath my hair. "Now you are a master of lady's fashion?"

"You should learn from your mistakes," Will says. "If it blows off once tied in such a manner, it will a second time." He reaches out both hands before stopping and thinking better of it. "May I?"

"That depends on what you are asking permission for."

"To show what I mean about your hat strings," Will says.

I nod acquiesce since forcing Will to reach his arms up around my neck to demonstrate his point seems a worthy way to spend time. "I warn you, I believe I have knotted them up so it may take a bit of work."

"I shall take my chances," he says, leaning close, hands tangling in my hair as well as hat strings.

Perhaps I should offer assistance, but the warmth of Will's breath on my face and the brush of his arms against my neck are heavenly. Though the thought of tangling my fingers up with his is tempting, offering assistance would only speed the process along and then where would I be?

"There," Will says, looking rather pleased with himself as he reties my strings under my chin. "Less fashionable, though more practical. Now if the wind snatches your hat, it will be caught by your ribbons and not end up in the sea."

"How very industrious of you," I say, frowning when his hands are once again at his sides. "Shall you be attending the ball come Saturday, Will?"

He gives a harsh laugh. "I believe the messenger lost my invitation."

"I shall put you on the list if you wish," I promise. "It shan't be hard."

"No, Elizabeth, fancy dress balls are not where I belong." He turns away, watching the sea silently. "You are meant for those, not I."

"But I would have a much grander time if you were present, Will."

Will shakes his head. "Please, Elizabeth, do not press."

"Will you at least come around before hand so I can show off my dress?" I request. "It's smashing! Midnight blue with just the slightest hint of sleeves and a flounce around the bottom. I felt quite daring and grown up when I tried it on for the first time."

"I shall try."

"You _always_ say that, Will," I protest. "Either come around or not – don't give me false hope by saying you'll 'try.'"

"I. . .I would prefer not to see you dressed for the ball, Elizabeth."

"Why ever not?"

Will makes a helpless 'please don't make me explain' gesture with both hand, face stricken when he turns toward me. "I'd prefer not to, that's all."

"But you must have a reason, Will."

"One that shall remain private, Elizabeth."

"Have I. . .Have I done anything to upset you, Will, or make you cross with me?" I ask.

"No. No, don't ever think that," Will says, cupping the side of my face in one of his calloused hands. "I just. . .For reasons that shall remain my own, I. . ." He sighs, smile half-regretful. "I am sure you shall look a picture in that dress, Elizabeth, and have a fine time at the ball."

"Not without you."

"Your happiness does not hinge upon me."

"It may."

Will turns from me once more. "I have been gone too long. Brown will wonder."

"Is there nothing I can say to change your mind, Will?" I ask.

"No."

"That is all?" I ask, moving to stand in front of him before reaching for his hands. "Just no? Usually there is always some way to turn your answer about."

"Not this time, Elizabeth. I am sorry."

"You are absolutely firm in that regard?"

"Absolutely," he agrees, voice lifeless.

"Then I shall have to try even harder to turn your mind," I declare, giving his hands a squeeze before releasing them. "I enjoy a challenge, Will Turner. You should know that by now."


	31. Chapter 31

Part XXXI

"Elizabeth, dear, are you free?" Papa calls through my door, knocking briefly.

"One moment, Papa!" I call, doing a little twirl in front of my mirror to watch the skirt of my ball gown bell out. The silky midnight blue material next to my fair skin and hair gave me the appearance of a china doll. How wondrous. "Isn't this the most heavenly dress you've ever seen?" I ask as I open the door for Papa. "To make something like this out of a simple pattern is just a wonder. Plus, how very kind to have it delivered two full days before the ball so I can learn to love it all the more. You must pay her extra, Papa."

"You look a picture," he agrees, stepping into the room. "Have you thought of how you will wear your hair?"

"I'm tired of curls," I say, piling my loose hair atop my head with one hand. "I believe I may try what the French call a chignon. It will make me look very grown up."

"You _are_ very grown up," Papa says, holding out a thin box. "These were your mother's. I believe it is time they were passed along to you."

I remove the box lid slowly, peering inside. I gasp, nearly dropping the box, gaze flying to Papa's. "Mama's pearls?"

He smiles sadly. "I know you should have her blue sapphires to match your dress, but the pearls were her favorite. They are yours now."

"I. . .I don't know what to say."

"Say you'll accept. Make your mother and I proud." Papa motions at the box. "May I?"

I nod, lifting my hair in back so he can fasten the pearls around my neck. I watch our reflection in the mirror. "Are you quite sure you wish to give them to me, Papa?"

"Quite sure," he agrees. "You are a young lady now, Elizabeth, and deserve a few pretty trinkets here and there." He moves to sit at my cushioned window seat before patting the spot next to him. "Join me please, Elizabeth."

"But Mama's pearls are precious, Papa," I say, picking my way across my room to join him on the seat. "Practically sacred."

"Now they are yours." Papa sighs, face clouding – perhaps remembering the past and Mama – as he looks from my window. "I believe nothing would give your mother greater pleasure than to know you will wear those come Saturday."

I touch the necklace, a sudden remembrance of Mama laughing and calling out "Remember, Elizabeth, you are a lady!" when she came upon Will and I having a mud clot war in the garden when we were twelve. A short four months later, she was gone.

'May I speak to you, Elizabeth, on a sensitive matter?" Papa asks.

"Of course."

"I'm sure you must know that part of growing up is falling in love. I remember quite clearly the first time I laid eyes on your mother. I hope you feel the same sort of excitement over seeing your future intended some day. Perhaps you already have."

"Gone weak kneed over a boy?" I think a moment. "Not particularly. There was the time I turned my ankle while walking with Will and he caught me, but that is not what you are after. And the time when I stumbled on the rut in the street and pitched forward into Will's arms but that is, again, a man-made occurrence and not because of mooning over his eyes or hair or extremely splendid arms. Have you seen Will's arms lately, Papa? All boys should take up an apprenticeship with the Blacksmith if that is how they turn out."

"I do not make it a habit to look on the Turner Boy's arms, Elizabeth, and neither should you."

I blink, taken aback by his harsh tone. "It is only an observation, Papa. Don't you wish me to be observant to things around me?"

"Not of that nature."

"What if I said 'Norrington's hair is quite nice and his teeth are the straightest I've ever seen'?" I ask. "You would be dancing a little jig of joy that I was taking further interest in the Captain."

"Norrington and the Boy are world's apart, Elizabeth. They are hardly fit to breath the same air."

"How extremely rude of you, Papa," I say, frowning my displeasure. "Will is quite literally the most splendid boy I have ever met and here you are practically calling him a beggar."

"He is beneath your station."

"He is my friend!"

"I wish you would choose your friends more wisely."

"I liked it better when you just handed over pocket money and stayed out of my business," I say, turning away since this 'talk of a sensitive nature' has become extremely grating. "What I wish and what you wish do not coincide, Papa. If you believe Will to be so beneath me, you should not have allowed us to become playmates in the first place."

"I believed you would grow out of it," Papa says. "You loose interest in your toys so quickly, Elizabeth, I hoped the same would be true of the Boy."

"He is not a toy, Papa, he is a human being."

Papa stands, making his way back to the door. Once there, he turns to say in parting: "Just see to it that, in the end, you do your duty and make the right choice."

"Have I really treated Will like a toy?" I wonder out loud once I am alone. "Like just another play thing to discard once I'm bored?" I sigh, touching Mama's pearls for comfort. There is only one way to know for sure.

I need Will's opinion on the matter.


	32. Chapter 32

Part XXXII

Thankfully, my ball gown is not the sort that requires help in its removal. Calling Celeste in would only result in yet another round of "Oh, miss, why won't you leave the Turner boy alone?" to which I would have to reply "why won't you leave me alone, Celeste, and mind your own business?" Though I appreciate the luxury of servants, they can be very vexing at times when they feel at liberty to express their opinions.

It is quite simple to slip one of my plain day dresses over my head and even simpler to sneak out the servant's entrance. I do not know whether Will will be occupied with work at this hour, but that has never stopped me visiting the Shop whenever I pleased before.

"Where are you off to all alone, Miss Swann?" someone calls out to me as I attempt to take the least conspicuous path to the Blacksmith Shop.

I stop, looking around for the source of the annoyance. Sally Simpkins. "No where that concerns you."

She blocks my path, swinging her little basket of pastries and bread in one hand. "Off to see Will Turner, I wager. Best be careful, Miss Swann, or someone may leave an anonymous note for your father the governor to find."

"What amazes me is that you even know what the word 'anonymous' means."

Color flares to her cheeks. "You think you're better than me just because you were born in that fancy mansion? You're not. And, one of these days, Will Turner will know so too."

I roll my eyes. "Spare me the speech that begins 'He's mine, d'ya hear me? He's mine!'"

"Why don't you cut him free from that little string you lead him about by to give others a sporting chance?"

"For one, I do not lead Will about by a string," I say. "For another, he is quite capable of deciding who he wishes to spend his time with and that person is not you. Now, if you will excuse me, I must be off. Good day."

Sally Simpkins calls out something rather vulgar which rhymes with "witch." How very forward of her to presume I was off to see Will – even if it is true – let alone use such shocking language! The nerve of some people. . . .

The shop door is slightly ajar when I stop out front. "Will?" I call, pushing the door all the open with my toe. "Will, are you about?"

Will emerges from his bedroom, rubbing his face and arms dry with a cloth. "Elizabeth?"

"A very strange occurrence has happened," I begin. "In the span of less than an hour, I have had two people accuse me of treating you as a toy instead of a human being. Can you imagine?"

Will hangs the cloth up to dry and rolls down his sleeves before responding. "What did you say to these people who made such accusations?"

"That they presume far too much and it simply is not true." I take several steps forward till we are standing toe-to-toe. "Do _you_ feel it is true, Will?" I ask, grasping his hands in mine.

"I. . .You have your moments, Elizabeth."

"And what exactly does that mean?"

"Exactly what it sounds like," Will says, pulling his hands free and turning to busy himself with straightening the wares hanging on the wall. "You have your moments. Sometimes, you are kind and generous and thoughtful but, other times, I feel that what you really wanted when you were ten was a puppy but your father gave you me instead."

"How very unkind, Will," I say. "Do you really think that?"

"At times," Will says. "Before, I would willingly jump through hoops for you, Elizabeth, but I am growing out of that now."

"Because we are no longer children?" I ask.

He nods. "With age comes knowledge, I believe. I wish to rectify some of the problems of the past."

"Such as?" I prompt.

Will shakes his head, turning around to give me a shaky half-smile. "That is for me to decide, Elizabeth."

"The ball is in two days," I remind him.

"I am aware of the fact."

"It is not too late for me to secure you an invitation."

He shakes his head again. "No amount of wheedling will make me accept. Turn your efforts to a worthier cause."

"But you _are_ worthy of every ounce of convincing I can muster, Will."

Will steps forward, cupping the side of my face in his big, rough hand. I close my eyes and tilt my head to feel the warmth of his palm against my cheek more fully.

"Please say you'll come, Will."

He presses a kiss to my forehead, lips lingering as if storing up the memory of this moment. "I am sorry, Elizabeth. I cannot."


	33. Chapter 33

Part XXXIII

"You certainly picked well with your dress style and color, miss," Celeste says the night of the ball, tucking a few freshly picked blue corn flowers into my chignon. I hadn't taken Mama's pearls off since Papa presented them to me. They feel heavy around my neck – as if a constant reminder of my duty and station in life. My memories of Mama are already becoming rather hazy. I remember her laugh most clearly and how her eyes would dance as if she didn't quite believe it herself when she told me to act like a lady. Sometimes I wonder if I would have turned out as spoiled as everyone claims if Mama were alive to balance out Papa's habit of throwing money and everything my heart desires at me. At the very least, I would have very much welcomed any advice she could give on boys and growing up.

"Have you heard any gossip about town regarding the Captain?" I ask Celeste. "Particularly on whether he is planning any sort of 'surprise' for me or not?"

"No, miss, not that I recall."

"I do so hate surprises."

"I am sure all Captain Norrington has in mind is pleasant music and dancing," Celeste says.

"I dearly hope so," I say, putting a hand over my fluttering stomach. "Please tell Papa I am ready."

Celeste bobs a curtsy. "Yes, miss."

I watch my reflection once she is gone, hoping that tonight truly is just filled with music and dancing yet wondering, all the same, if I have made a truly grave error in judgment.

----------

"Miss Swann, how lovely you look," Captain Norrington says, descending upon me almost the second my feet hit the ground from the carriage. He takes my arm and steers me inside and away from Papa. "How do you like the decorations? Do they please you?"

"Yes, very," I answer automatically, barely glancing at the flowers he deemed "decorations."

"Shall we dance, Miss Swann?"

"Of course."

No matter how boring the Captain's conversation is, he is an excellent dancer. At least I can be content in that small detail.

We clap politely when the music stops before Norrington once again takes hold of my arm and steers me over to the refreshments table. I drink what he offers me – some sort of fruit punch mixture – mostly because if I am drinking, he can not expect me to answer his insipid attempts at small talk.

"How very lovely you look tonight, Miss Swann," he repeats the compliment of earlier, hoping to bait me into conversation. "The cut and style of the dress suits you."

"Thank you," I say dutifully. "I am also wearing Mama's pearls."

He lifts the necklace to inspect it, hand brushing dangerously close to my décolletage. "Pretty, but you deserve more than a simple string of pearls."

"They were my mother's which makes them priceless to me."

"I quite understand," Norrington says, bowing slightly. "Shall we return to the dance floor?"

I hold out my hand. "If you wish."

"After this dance, I have a gift of my own to present you with," he promises as we move effortlessly across the floor.

"Do stop talking, Captain, I wish to enjoy the music."

"I hope very much you enjoy the gift."

"Please, Captain, do stop talking," I repeat.

He chooses to completely ignore my request. "It is just a little something, though it holds significant meaning."

I close my eyes and clench my teeth, happy when I feel a pain at my temple. "I believe I am developing a headache. Do stop talking – it shall only make it worse."

"As you wish, Miss Swann."

The song ends and everyone claps. The other dancers move to the side and I am about to join them, when the Captain grasps my arm, pulling me back.

"What are you doing?" I hiss. "I do not wish to create a scene."

He smiles at the roomful of guests, voice loud enough to be heard by all. "This ball is in honor of my dear Miss Swann and – to that end – I wish to present her with a token of my devotion." Everyone gasps (including me) as he removes something from inside his coat. A necklace. A necklace with a ring attached.

"I cannot. . .I cannot accept," I whisper.

Norrington's voice is still loud enough to bring the house down. "I know you do not wish to wed currently, Miss Swann, but please accept this token as a promise of our future happiness together."

"What are you doing?" I hiss as he leans close to clasp the necklace about my neck.

"Just smile and don't create a scene," Norrington whispers into my ear -- hot, sticky breath lingering and making me shudder. He straightens, smiling at the curious crowd. "She has accepted! I am a very fortunate man!"

I watch in horror as clapping erupts – Papa's the loudest of them all. I push past the crowd hoping to find the back entrance, wiping back tears as Norrington explains: "Do not worry – Miss Swann is just overcome with joy." Once outdoors, I pull the hideous trinket from around my neck and drop it, uncaring and unseeing, into the dirt.

"How dare he, how dare he, how dare he," I repeat between sobs, burying my face against the side of the building to try to muffle the sounds of my tears.

"Elizabeth?"

"I'm not crying!" I automatically cover for my less than put-together state. "I am allergic to the perfume of one of the ladies inside."

"You should know you can't lie to me. What is the matter?"

"Will?" I ask, squinting into the darkness. "You told me you wouldn't come."

He steps into the light. "I told you I wouldn't attend the dancing part. I never said I wouldn't come to the building."

"Oh, Will, how glad I am to see you," I say, wiping under my eyes and hoping my face did not look too red and splotchy. "If you wouldn't terribly mind, could you. . .could you hold me for a time?"

Will holds out his arms wide. "There is nothing in the world I would enjoy more, Elizabeth."


	34. Chapter 34

Part XXXIV

The steady thump-thump-thump of Will's heartbeat is unbelievably comforting as are his arms about me. So strong and warm. Why haven't I noticed this sooner?

"Judging by your appearance and the fact that you are out here alone, I take it the ball is not all you wished for?" Will asks.

"All I wished for?" I laugh. "All I wished for was an opportunity to show off my pretty gown and dance only long enough so as not to seem suspicious when I pleaded the headache." I wrap my arms tighter around Will's chest, burying my face deeper into his coat. "I like this much better, though. Can we stay like this forever, please?"

Will chuckles before kissing the top of my head. "Hardly. We're bound to need to eat or sleep sometime."

"We can sleep like this."

"Not standing."

I pull back but not completely out of his arms. "Stop teasing!"

Will reaches up and removes the now wilted flowers from my hair. "You were crying when I found you. What happened inside?"

"Nothing."

"Elizabeth, you are the strongest, most stubborn girl I know. You do not cry easily," he says. "Please, tell me the truth."

"I. . .Norrington made a scene," I admit. "Not yelling or screaming or any some such nonsense, but he. . .he presented me with what he assumes to be a future engagement ring in front of the gathered crowd – Papa included."

"And your response?" Will asks.

"Nothing," I say. "He didn't give me time to respond. I. . .I came out here and dropped the ring in the dirt near the door. That is my feelings on the matter."

"Then your father has gotten what he wants, as well as Norrington for that matter, if half the town thinks you are engaged."

"We are not engaged or even to-be-in-the-future engaged," I insist. "I did not say yes, Will. I believe that is a rather important part of the process."

Will frowns, brow furrowing as he thinks. "If Norrington created a scene, you should as well."

"How so?"

"Jilt him in public."

"Public humiliation," I say, warming up to the idea. "Fantastic."

"Shall I help plan?" Will asks.

"Help plan?" I laugh, flashing him a grin. "You are going to be _in_ the plan!"

Will grins as well and my spirits lift all the higher. "Another one of your famous schemes. Shall I be worried?"

"Of course not," I insist. "This is to get back at Norrington, not at you." Though I know it has little affect on him, I try pouting and batting my eyelashes. "Do help, Will! Please?"

"What do you need of me?"

"Oh, it shall be terribly cunning," I promise. "If I have any sort of luck, it will also send Norrington packing from Port Royale faster than you can say 'Sally Simpkins is a horrid girl with her mind constantly in the gutter.'"

Will laughs. "That is quite a lot to say in one breath, Elizabeth."

"It will work," I say, looping my arms around Will's neck and tangling my fingers in his hair just because I can. "And you shall help me make sure of it."


	35. Chapter 35

Part XXXV

Sunday. Market Day. The busiest day in all of Port Royale and the best time to ensure a crowd. The only trick will be convincing Norrington to meet me at the town center but I—or rather Will—has a plan for that as well.

"But I've only ever written curt notes or formal invitations to the Captain," I say, quill poised above parchment as I glance over my shoulder at Will. "If I write anything too very romantic, he may grow suspicious."

Will takes a step back so he is not leaning so very close to me at my writing desk. "From how you described his behavior of late, any bit of hope will be much welcomed."

I chew on the end of my quill. "True. What shall I write?"

"I. . .I'm hardly the one to ask advise on love note writing, Elizabeth."

"Well, you're a boy," I rationalize. "What would you like to hear?"

"If you wrote me?" Will asks.

I shrug. "If it helps you focus, yes."

"_My dearest Will. . . ."_

_"My dearest Will,"_ I repeat out loud as I write before stopping. "Will! This is to _Norrington_! I certainly shan't have him meeting me anywhere if I call him 'Will' in a love note." I crumple the parchment and reach for another. "Perhaps just _Dearest?_"

Will nods. "Yes. Yes, that is better." He thinks a moment before beginning the note anew. "_Dearest_ – _My whole being is a whirl with remembrances of you. I cannot sleep, for thoughts of you intrude and keep me wakeful. Whatever can be done to put my teaming mind to rest? I must see you. Only then shall my soul sigh and sink to calmness for it has found its true match. Meet me in the Market Square today at noontide. I shall be waiting. Yours ever -Elizabeth."_

"Elizabeth," I repeat, signing my name with a flourish. I dry the letter before holding it out at arms length to inspect. "Goodness, Will, you are quite poetic when you wish to be."

He blushes. "I. . .Thank you."

I seal the letter next and address it to Norrington. The simple ringing of a hand bell produces a servant who sees to its delivery. I turn toward Will when we are once again alone. "I believe I shall have to enlist your help further if I ever wish to fool future suitors."

"Perhaps you shall have find a suitor you do not wish to fool," Will says.

"Perhaps," I agree. "Though not likely. Don't you believe the courtship process to be terribly dull, Will?"

"That depends on who is doing the courting," he says.

I prop my chin on my fist to show I am fully listening. "How would you do things then?"

Will's eyes bug and he tries to cover his surprise by coughing. "M-Me?"

"Yes, you."

He fixes me with a bleak stare and I know full well he would rather not speak on the matter but I am terribly curious.

"Go on," I prompt.

Will sighs. "There are other ways of expressing one's devotion rather than flowers and trinkets."

"Such as?"

"Such as you know perfectly well what I refer to," Will says.

"Perhaps I need a demonstration."

"Do not tease me, Elizabeth," he chides. "It is unbecoming."

I stand, crossing the short distance to Will.

"What are you doing?" he whispers, breath catching as I raise my arms slowly to rest around his neck.

"Your note," I say. "Is that what you really wish I would say to you?"

"It is just a note," he shrugs off the question. "Part of your plan."

"It appeared to me that you truly meant those words, Will."

His breath hisses through his teeth as he inhales sharply. "Perhaps."

"You are quite vague today in some regards, Will," I tease, twirling a lock of his hair about my finger. "It feels I shall never get a straight answer out of you."

"Perhaps you need to ask me a straight question."

"Did you mean those words, Will?" I ask. "In your note? Is that what you truly wish to hear from me?"

Will looks toward the mantel as the clock strikes quarter till the hour. "Nearing noon. If you do not hurry, Elizabeth, you shall be late for your own rendezvous"

"Oh, pish to the rendezvous," I say. "I am more interested in your answer, Will."

"It shall be of no consequence what I do or do not think if you are still partially engaged to Norrington," he says.

"Very true," I agree with a sigh, removing my arms from his neck in favor of grasping his hand in both of mine "I hope this shall work."

Will brushes his knuckles down my jaw line before chucking me playfully under the chin in a surprisingly comforting gesture. "It shall, for we thought of it together."


	36. Chapter 36

Part XXXVI

"Forgive me for the delay," I say, finding Norrington waiting for me at the town center, my "love note" clutched in his hands. "Time escaped me. I have no other excuse."

"There is nothing to forgive," he assures me, lifting my hand and planting a rather sloppy kiss on the center. "I must say, Miss Swann, I was quite surprised to receive such a correspondence from you. You have not been so forthcoming regarding your feelings till now."

I place both hands over my heart. "I simply could not hold them in any longer, Captain. You have wrenched them from my very soul."

He laps up every syllable.

"Tell me more about your feelings for me," Norrington requests, offering me his arm. I accept, pressing close, and we begin to walk the main street of town.

"Well, I believe it began with the hat," I say. "It's so jaunty. And the uniform. Goodness, who can resist a man in uniform? And the way you seem to know what's best for me before even I do. Brilliance!" I flutter my eyelashes. "How can I possibly resist?"

"Few can, I suspect," Norrington agrees.

"After the ball, I thought to myself 'What a fool I am to push such a catch away. You best go get him, Elizabeth, before some other girl snatches him up for herself.'" I slide my arm from his, stopping in front of the fountain at the center of Market Street.

The Captain preens like a peacock at my words. "Yes, well, at least you came to your senses."

"Absolutely," I agree. "What a fool I was to even think of letting you get away." I glance off to my right, making sure Will is manning his agreed upon location at the little fountain wall. He nods to me and I step close to Norrington, walking my fingers up his coat buttons to emphasis each word. "Don't you agree that every girl needs a big, strong man to control her every move?"

"Well, perhaps 'control' is too harsh a word," Norrington says. "I prefer 'mold her every move.'"

With each step I take forward, Norrington takes one back. He stumbles when the back of his legs bump up against the fountain but doesn't fall until --

"Mold her? I wouldn't let an overstuffed, pompous peacock like you near me, _dearest James_. You'd do well to remember that."

Will grasps Norrington's shoulders right as I give a great shove on his chest, making the Captain do a smart little back flip into the water. He comes up sputtering, hat somehow managing to stay in place. He pushes the waterlogged feather away from his face as the crowd erupts just as I hoped – in laughter.

"Why you horrid little chit!"

Will stands next to me as we face Norrington, reaching for my hand as a sign of silent support. "Call me what you may," I say, "but that does not change the fact that I have a mind of my own. I do as I choose – not what Papa or you dictate."

"You choose the boy?" he asks.

I glance at Will. "I choose freedom. If Will embodies this, so be it."

"You shall regret it," Norrington predicts.

"If I do, it is none of your concern since it is my decision to be made."

"Let us go," Will says, squeezing my hand. "He will never change."

I nod and soon we are racing hand in hand down the beach, kicking up sand in our wake. Once we are at the jetty, Will releases my hand, leaning forward with palms flat on his knees in an attempt to catch his breath.

"I don't believe today shall deter him forever, but you are free for a time, Elizabeth," Will says.

"All the same it is glorious to be free!" I crow, twirling in a circle. "Thank you, Will," I add, voice softer. "For everything."

"You are quite welcome."

"Does not it seem as if our whole lives are before us?" I ask, turning a few cartwheels in my exuberance despite being weighed down by my cumbersome dress. "Anything we wish, we can make it so. Ours, Will. Ours for the taking."

He takes both my hands in his, looking very serious and earnest. "Promise me one thing, Elizabeth."

"Anything," I answer automatically.

"Promise me you shall never conform to society's whims. Always be as you are."

"I promise," I say, leaning forward till our foreheads are touching. "But you must do so as well. Never change, Will. I couldn't bear it."

"I promise," he agrees, breath warm on my face as his lips find mine.


	37. Epilogue

Epilogue – 20 years later

"Betsy! Betsy, do take more care!" I call down the beach. "Do you wish the whole wide world to see your knickers?" I roll my eyes skyward when she continues to turn cartwheels in the sand despite (or maybe because of) my objections. "Goodness, that child is incorrigible," I say to Will. "Was I ever so bad as all that?"

"Oh, much worse," Will teases, tightening his grip on my hand. "Send Wills. He's bound to talk some sense into her."

At the mention of his name, William—the exact image of his father-- looks our direction. "I'll try, Mum, but no guarantee."

"Trying would be splendid, dear heart," I say, patting his cheek since he deemed himself 'too old for kisses.'

With a nod, William races down the beach toward his younger sister yelling "Betsy! Elizabeth Ann Turner, Mum says stop putting your knickers on display!"

"But they're pretty and lacy -- who wouldn't want to see them?" Betsy replies.

Will and I exchange a look before laughter over takes us. "Let us hope that what is said at six is not repeated at sixteen," he says.

"Lord, why couldn't we have all boys?"

Will places a hand over my abdomen which is just beginning to swell to accommodate the new life growing inside. "Did you ever doubt, Elizabeth, that we would be as we are today?"

"Chasing our children down the same beach we once played at?" I shake my head. "Deep down, Will, I believe I always loved you. It just took my head some time to catch up with my heart."

"If I had told you sooner would you have --"

I lean forward to kiss him, halting his words. "No use thinking on those two years spent in silence and tears so very long ago. I understand now why you broke the friendship." I grin, remembering Will's first declaration of love as clear and fresh as if it were yesterday. "Funny, after all our games of Pirates, that is exactly who I have to thank for returning you to me."

"We certainly got our share of adventure after meeting up with that lot."

"Do you miss it?" I ask. "The sea and the surf and wind in your hair?"

Will barely hesitates before shaking his head. "I'd rather be beside you with our children all about us. This is my life now." He caresses my cheek lightly. "You are my life, Elizabeth."

"As you are mine, Will," I agree, leaning close for yet another kiss.

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Author's Note:  Yes, even "A Smart Match" , my 'never-ending Willabeth fic', must come to an end. Thank you for reading and for all the positive response. I am open to suggestions for my next Will/Elizabeth fic so include it in your review or PM me. Also, if you have not done so already, please read the excerpt from my soon to be published historical fiction novel _Chasing Byron_. It will be released Winter 2007 through Highland Press. I have the first 2 chapters of it and excerpts from other non fan fic novels at my fictionpress account. Follow the link from my profile.


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